The First Sign of Madness
by Gemmi92
Summary: "It has been eight years, Isabelle," he whispered, his voice soft. "He's not the man who you married. I know that you love him. I know that you still care for him regardless of what you want to feel. But, you need to know that he's no good for you. He can't give you what you want in the future." Crane/OC. NEW FINAL CHAPTER!
1. Chapter 1

Jonathan wasn't born a monster. I was sure of that much. He never told me anything about his past, saying it wasn't important and that it was just a memory. It seemed to be a memory which he had wanted to erase. I don't know what it was that turned him into the man everyone now knows. I don't know how I lost to him to his alter ego. But, the worst past is...I don't know how to get him back.

...

"Are you listening to me, Isabelle?"

I blinked quickly, looking up at my mother as I did so. She rolled her eyes as I ate the cereal in the bowl in front of me. The breakfast bar was crowded in all of the college books which I needed for that day, much to my mother's dismay again. She didn't agree with mess and I was certainly creating just that on that freezing morning in Gotham.

Gotham. The city that always sins. There was something about it that I couldn't stand. Maybe it was the high crime level. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't allowed out in the city alone. I didn't really know. I was determined to make it out of the city. I couldn't put my finger on it. Oh, the sarcasm. It was something which wasn't an attractive trait, according to my father. My parents hadn't allowed me to leave and go to a different state for college. They considered that too dangerous. I had laughed hysterically until I saw my dad's face. It was no laughing matter.

"Yes," I exasperated, dropping my spoon into the bowl so it clattered against the side. "I have to go to college and then dad will take me back to his apartment tonight. I also know that you're going away for the weekend."

That seemed to shock mother. She blinked quickly, running her hand nervously through her long, blonde hair as she looked to the side and placed the orange juice back into the fridge. She was biting down on her bottom lip and I sighed once and shrugged. She was nervous about dating again. I didn't know why.

"I'm not bothered that you're dating, mom. It's been two years," I informed her and she nodded in agreement, her shoulders slumping downwards as she did so and she continued moving her head up and down.

"I know. I know it has been," she assured me. "I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I just want you to know that I will never try to replace your dad."

"I know," I managed to smile at her and she nodded once in confirmation. "Dad and you split up. It happens. Divorce is a common thing."

"I miss him, Is," mom mumbled back to me and she picked up my empty cereal bowl and began to wash it, her yellow rubber gloves becoming wet as she did so. She allowed her head to loll downwards and I thought that she might begin to cry. I don't think I could deal with that. Mom had cried for the first three weeks after the divorce. She had been a mess. Dad had dealt with it fine.

I...well...I'd coped. I had to look after mom so I didn't get a chance to really grieve. I didn't want to grieve.

"But," I said, trying to be cheery for her, "you've got a date!"

"I do," she suddenly replied, flipping her hair behind her shoulders and smiling in my direction, trying to be encouraging and optimistic. "I'm only going to New York for a weekend with Daniel."

"Daniel," I nodded at her, standing up and grabbing my books, dropping them into my hands and making sure they balanced. "Well...have a great time...and...can you call me when you get there, please?"

"You're like my mother," mom complained, removing her gloves and pulling her red, fitted dress downwards. "But yes, I will call you."

"Good," I nodded, walking over to my mother and kissing her on the cheek before I grabbed my car keys from the bowl on the breakfast bar. "I will talk to you later."

"Be good for your father."

...

College dragged. It always dragged. I was a Law student. I didn't really get a say in what I was going to do in life. Dad had decided it for me. That was how I found myself sat in the back of the lecture hall, my pen in my mouth as I looked to the front and listened to what my father was going on about. I didn't understand. I never understood.

Much to my father's dismay.

I was grateful for when the bell sounded and everyone emptied the lecture hall, walking past me as I took longer to pack away my books then what was really necessary. My dad remained at the front of the hall, picking up his papers and dropping them back into his briefcase before walking up the red carpeted steps to where I was sat.

"You were sat there with that pen in your mouth for the last half an hour," he commented, tucking his blonde hair behind his ears as he looked down the rows of empty seats as if it hurt to look at my plush, red fold up chair. "Did you make any notes?"

"Maybe," I mumbled in response and dad sighed, loosening his tie as he did so and turning his neck to this side, his jaw set in a stubborn position.

"You need to go home and catch up, Isabelle," he warned me and I bit down on my tongue. There was no use in arguing. There was never any use in arguing. He always won and I always lost. It was how it was. "I'm your father as well as your Professor and you're luck that I don't single you out because of your poor attitude. Now, catch up."

"I don't see a point," I mumbled in response and stood up, pulling my white blouse down and my tight jeans up. I placed my satchel onto my shoulder and picked my books up, looking up at the broad man in front of me.

"I do," he replied simply. "I need to stay behind for an hour to finish off some paperwork. You have your car and the house keys, I take it?" he checked with me and I nodded at him as he switched his briefcase from one hand to the other.

"Good. You go home and begin catching up. I shall see you in a few hours," he spoke and I knew I had been dismissed. I walked towards the car park, my feet stomping on the floor in annoyance as I muttered under my breath.

Why couldn't I find my car keys when I needed them? I remained in the cool winter air, shivering slightly as I looked in my bag and continued walking, too preoccupied with my own thoughts to notice anyone else. I suppose that was my first mistake. If I had looked up then I would have been safe. I wouldn't have met him.

"Ouch!" I suddenly complained as I bumped into a slim figure. I fell to the side, my arm hurting as someone's hand wrapped around my upper arm and he held me upright, his grip vice like tight as I looked over to see who it was.

"You do know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, don't you?" he asked me as I rubbed my arm up and down, probably being melodramatic as I stuck my chin out and looked into his large blue orbs.

"No," I replied with a nonchalant shrug and he chuckled lightly, holding his briefcase tight to his side as he looked at me. I recognised him vaguely. He was a Professor, I was sure of that. I just didn't know what he taught or his name. He wasn't old either. He looked as if he had just come out of college himself! His hair was messy around the top of his head and his glasses were halfway down his nose as he continued to look at me. He was probably expecting an apology. I was a mere student and he was a Professor.

"But...I should have looked where I was going, Professor."

"That may be true," he agreed with me, unbuttoning the button to his black blazer which hid his vest sweater and tie. "But we all can become preoccupied, Miss Dubois."

He knew my name? How...oh right...your father is a Professor, Isabelle. That's why most of the student body don't like you. Because they see you as some kind of teacher's pet. If only they knew the truth.

"Yes, I suppose so," I mumbled in agreement as he continued to look at me. He was off putting, to say the least. "Sorry, Professor...mm..." I trailed off. God, this was embarrassing. First, I had walked into a teacher, and second, I didn't know who he was.

"Crane," he replied to me. "Jonathan Crane."

"Right!" I suddenly snapped out. Psychology. He taught psychology. I knew who he was. He looked at me with an arched brow, possibly disturbed by my sudden outburst. I felt myself redden slightly under the intensity of his blue eyes and my ridiculous statement.

"Judging by that previous comment, you had forgotten who I was," Jonathan smirked at me and I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I knew...I'm just not very good...well..." I trailed off. I looked an idiot. It was irrelevant what else I said because he would just think that I was an idiot. Which I was, but he didn't need to know.

"You're not very good with names?" he pushed me and I nodded meekly. That was it. His grin remained fixed in place as I thought now would be a good time to make an excuse, but he continued to talk. "Well, Miss Dubois. Your name isn't difficult to remember. What with your father being the head of the Law department, which you so happen to study."

"Coincidental, huh?" I said to him and he chuckled, looking down at the ground and running a hand through his hair as he did so.

"Extremely," he agreed with me. "You're in the last year, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I muttered.

"Well...a career in Law isn't something I can see your pursuing," he informed me and I looked up at him with wide eyes as he looked over to the car park.

"Why not?" I asked him and he chuckled, pulling his car keys from his pocket as he did so.

"I'm a Psychology Professor, Miss Dubois," he informed me as he stalked off. He looked behind his shoulder for a second, "I know you better than you know yourself."

I remained stood on the spot, unable to move further as I watched him walk away to the car park. The campus was still quiet but it felt chilly and creepy all of a sudden. How did he know me better than I knew myself? I shuffled my books in my hold as I thought about his words. There was something about him. Something which I couldn't shake, regardless of how much I wanted to.

...

A/N: Review? Please? I have many ideas for the future of the story but I want to know people are reading it!


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you know a Professor Crane?" I enquired from my father as I cleared the table that evening. After a dinner of chicken curry, it was safe to say that I should leave the glasses out for water. My dad always knew how to make an extra spicy curry. I placed his plate on top of mine as I walked over the wooden floor to the sink and dad remained seated, his eyes narrowed as he thought about who I was speaking of. He remained holding onto the glass of water, his cheeks tinted red as he loosened his tie.

"Jonathan?" he checked with me. "He teaches Psychology, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," I nodded; dipping my hands into the soapy water with the dishcloth as my dad remained seated, rocking back and forth in his chair as he did so.

"What about him?" Dad wondered and I bit down on my lip. I hadn't expected that question. Did I tell him about the odd thing which he had said to me? Was it odd? Was it some kind of Psychology joke that I didn't understand? I don't know.

"Nothing," I replied, trying to be airy. "I just bumped into him today and forgot he was a Professor. He looks a little young, though," I added on and my dad snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. I placed the plates onto the steel draining board as my dad took a sip of his water.

"He's twenty six, I think," dad informed me and my mouth hung open slightly. He was only six years older than me and he was already a Professor? That was too crazy.

"How did he manage that? Mom said it took you years to become a Professor," I informed him and I thought I saw him wince at the mention of my mother.

"It did," he snapped once. "I don't know how he did it. All that I know is that he graduated a year early. He's extremely smart and not afraid to show it."

Did I detect some form of resentment from my father? The tone of his voice certainly suggested just that.

"How is your mother?" he asked me out of the blue. I almost dropped the plate which I was drying but I gulped once and placed it into the cupboard above the microwave.

"She's good," I informed him. "You know that she's gone to New York for the weekend, right?" I checked with him and he scoffed.

"It's only Thursday!" he exclaimed.

"A long weekend," I clarified with a shrug. "She's gone with Daniel."

That seemed to shock my dad slightly. He remained silent for a second, his hands pushing his blonde hair behind him as he undid another button to his white dress shirt.

"Daniel?" he checked with me and I nodded. "Is he the guy who works in the office with your mother?"

"Yes," I admitted. I knew what dad thought. I wasn't an idiot when they broke up. "You know they've only just started dating."

"That's the front which your mother has given you," he muttered and I slammed the cupboard door shut.

"Dad!" I exclaimed. "Mom promised me that nothing had gone on between them whilst you were married. I believe her and so should you."

That seemed to shut him up. I knew he didn't believe her. It was one of the reasons why their marriage had been rocky. It had been on the bumps before he accused her of having an affair. They worked long hours, rarely spoke and had begun nitpicking at every tiny thing. And then there came the accusation.

"Don't you have some catching up to do?" Dad snapped at me, knowing that there was no use in arguing over mom with me. He won every single argument which we had but I would never back down on that issue.

"I suppose," I complained and dad nodded and pointed to the cream coloured hallway where the stairs were situated.

"You had best go upstairs and do your work then. I'm setting you a paper tomorrow for over the weekend so you'll need to know what to write about," he informed me as I picked up my glass of water and moved over to the steps.

"And pick your feet up when you walk!"

...

The library was intolerable. I hated going in there to study and write papers. The smell of it was so old and musty and it was always full. There were never any seats. Gotham University seriously needed an expansion. My dad had been true to his word on the Thursday night. So, on the Friday morning a paper was set. The entire lecture hall had grumbled and groaned but there was no point in doing so.

The majority complained that their weekend had been ruined and others complained that it was too hard. I was in the section for both of their complaints.

My last lecture was after dinner and then I could finish early, but, until then, I was stuck in my car, flicking through text books as I balanced my notepad against my steering wheel and made a start on the paper.

"Miss Dubois?"

There was a sudden knock against the window of my car and I felt my heart skip a beat. I had been too focused on my work to even notice the outside world around me. The text book which I had been handling fell from my hands and I knocked my notepad forwards, pressing on the horn of my car as it let out a blaring noise. I jumped back and closed my eyes for a second before turning the ignition of my car on and rolling down my window.

He was grinning. Clearly, he thought I was a complete moron.

"Yes, Professor?" I wondered and he tried to repress the smirk which was coming from his lips as he bent over slightly, his glasses moving down his nose as he did so and his hair flopping into his face.

"I wondered if you were alright?" he enquired. "I saw you sat in your car and I wasn't sure whether you were here by choice or if you had broken down."

Oh. That made sense, I suppose. I shook my head at him and indicated to the passenger seat where my books were splayed.

"I'm trying to do a paper," I said. "The library was full."

"Oh yes," he said with a roll of his eyes. "It is always full. Clearly an expansion is needed, but, not thought necessary."

Yeah, okay.

"I suppose so," I responded. "So I'm fine."

"That's a lie," he said quickly and looked away from my eyes, his blue orbs scanning around the car park as I arched a brow at him.

"Is it?" I responded and he looked back at me as if he had some burning question to ask. Before he responded, he looked up to the black sky before turning to look down at his shoulder where a large droplet had fallen.

"I had best be getting in," he said with haste and I nodded once at him as he pointed to the sky. "I don't feel like getting wet."

"No. I suppose not."

...

The library was empty by the end of the day. My theory of going home early hadn't worked, instead, my dad had told us of extra resources which we could find in the library to help us with our paper. And so, not wanting to anger the good Professor anymore, I went to the library and began to work on the paper. The next thing I knew, I was being chucked out of the library for staying too long. That was a surreal moment, indeed.

I placed my coat over my arm and my satchel on my shoulder and headed back to the car park. I remained hidden under the glass shelter outside the college front, looking onto the rain as it poured down profusely and I took a deep breath, making sure I had my keys before running to my car.

Normally, parking at the back of the car park was a good idea. You were hidden and no one could scratch your car. But, today, it was the worst idea I had thought up. As soon as I sat in the driver's seat I pushed my curled, matted hair from my face and checked my reflection in the mirror. I was soaked.

With a roll of my eyes, I turned the key and waited for my Mercedes to start up. But it wasn't having any of it. I turned the key again, the same noise echoing into my ears as I shook my head.

"No!" I snapped. "Please work!"

But it wasn't having any of it. How wonderful. I climbed out the car again, shutting the door as I opened the bonnet and looked into the mechanics of the car. I don't know what I was hoping to find. I was no mechanic and I certainly didn't know what to look for. I would just have to call my dad.

"Miss Dubois?"

Oh Jesus Christ. Not again.

"Is something wrong with your car?" his voice shouted loudly above the noise of rain banging on the rooftops and pavement of the car park as he pulled alongside the bonnet of my car and I nodded once, my hand moving down my face to push the water from my vision. But it was replaced there again in another three seconds.

"It won't start!" I complained, sounding like a petulant child as he watched me. I must have looked a sight. I knew I felt like one.

"Well...there's no one around..." he informed me. "I'll give you a lift home. You can come back to your car tomorrow."

I bit down on my bottom lip. What was there to be worried about? He was a Professor, for crying out loud. He was just being a kind human.

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure," he informed me bluntly and I nodded in agreement, slamming the hood of my car down and then rushing back to the driver's side. I pulled out the key and grabbed my satchel before locking it up and checking it was secure. His car wasn't new but it wasn't old. It wasn't a death trap, anyway. It was small and smelt like books, the seats were made from a comfy material which I was now managing to soak.

"Thanks," I muttered, dropping my bag into the footwell and placing my key into the side pocket as he nodded once at me and then began to focus on his driving.

"Why were you here so late?" he asked me and I shrugged, looking out of my side window as I did so and he remained looking to the front.

"I was researching in the library."

"I thought it was full?"

"It's never full at the end of the day, apparently," I informed him in a mumble and he chuckled once. "Why are you still here?"

Was that out of place? It felt wrong. He was a Professor. He didn't expect to be questioned by a student. But, he answered my question as if it were normal.

"I was researching," he simply responded and I looked over to him where a smirk formed on his lips. Was it supposed to be funny? "I do have a question though, Miss Dubois."

"Isabelle," I said quickly back to him and he looked over at me as I laced my hands together in my lap and shivered slightly. "I'm called Isabelle."

"Well...Isabelle..." he wormed the words out as if it was difficult to say my first name. "I was just wondering why you always seem to be alone when I see you. Research suggests that, if anything, you should have a posse following you around at all times."

I remained staring at him as he pulled up to a red light and he looked at me through his glasses, waiting for an answer which I didn't have as yet. What an odd question.

"I...well...I did have friends...but my parents divorced...and I'm the daughter of a Professor...so..." I trailed off and he nodded once, looking back up to the red light with intent as his face scrunched up.

"Say no more," he muttered back to me. I wasn't planning to – I thought silently.

"What made you wonder?" I pushed him, knowing that I was definitely breaking some of the rules between a Professor and student. I wasn't supposed to push him, but, I didn't think he was supposed to ask me questions like he had done.

"Well, I always see you alone yet you aren't...well...I mean..." he shrugged and then took a deep breath before he began to drive off again. "You're blonde and you're not unattractive, are you?"

Is that supposed to mean something?

"You think people accept people judging by looks?" I checked with him, my voice bland and blunt and he shrugged again, indicating to turn right.

"They did back in my day," he replied. Considering 'his day' was basically yesterday.

"I don't mind," I responded, hoping to end this odd conversation. "I've got less than six months left at college."

"And then you go out into the big world and have to find a job," he informed me and I held back the urge to roll my eyes. I've had this discussion with my father too many times for me to even keep count.

"What did you mean yesterday?" I suddenly wondered as we came to another traffic light and he leant to the edge of his seat, looking out the window before he leant back.

"Traffic," he complained. "We could be here a while. It looks like an accident ahead.

"You didn't answer my question," I informed him and he smirked once.

"I don't want to offend you," he replied. "You're not cut out for the Law."

"Why not?" I asked him instinctively and he took his glasses off as they steamed up and he rubbed them on his sleeve.

"You can either work for the corrupt lawyers, which your father won't let you do. Or you could apply to become a DA, but state funding isn't what it used to be and you don't have the spirit. You're too meek and shy. You're not interested in the Law either. That will show."

How did he know that? How did he know any of that? The last few times he had seen me was when I had been studying. I had even stayed at the library until late! Surely that showed I was dedicated.

"I'm a Psychology Professor," he responded, placing his glasses back on as I began to shiver and he looked across to me. Did that explained everything? "It is clear you're only studying Law because your father wants you to and you don't know how to defy him and you can't. I've met him. He's a stubborn man."

"You certainly have me figured out," I mumbled back, looking at my lap and he coughed once.

"I can read people," he simply spoke. "The mind is a powerful thing."

"You're right," I admitted to him. "I don't want to go into Law. I never have. It is my father's dream and not mine."

"So what do you want to do?" he enquired and I slumped further back into the seat, pushing my hair behind my ears as I wrapped my arms around my body. Why was it so cold in here?

"I don't know," I admitted. "I've never really tried anything other than Law and I know that I don't like that."

"You're cold," he simply informed me and I nodded in agreement. He undid his seat belt and I watched him.

"I left my coat in my car...I just grabbed my bag..."I simply spoke as he removed the blazer which he was wearing and he handed it to me.

"Your father would kill me if I let you catch a cold," he explained to me. "And he knows the Principle of the University."

"Thanks," I said, shrugging into the jacket which was slightly too big. I pulled it tightly around me, inhaling the smell of some kind of aftershave.

"Forget it," he replied. "It's 218 Everson Way, isn't it?" he checked with me and I nodded at him.

"How do you know?"

"I had to drop by and give your father some papers one day," he spoke nonchalantly. "I have a good memory."

We spent the rest of the ride in silence. I remained looking out the window as Professor Crane remained focusing on driving through the rain which didn't seem to want to ease up. He finally pulled outside of my dad's house and turned the ignition off as I shrugged out of his jacket and rested it behind me on the seat.

"Thanks for the ride," I said politely.

"Don't forget to go back to your car when the rain eases up." He lectured me slightly. "You know what Gotham is like."

"All too well," I agreed and slung my bag over my shoulder and he smirked as I climbed out the car and ran through the rain to my dad's house.

...

He didn't know what had possessed him to offer the girl a lift home. He never did things like that. He enjoyed being a loner. But, he supposed, it was the least he could do considering he had vandalised her car. There was something about her. She was shy and quiet. She refused to say no to anything even if she didn't want to do it.

He didn't need to do this.

But he wanted to.

She would be excellent in his experiment. She wouldn't say no.

He watched her as she ran into her house and shut the door behind her and he grinned. The toxin would be done soon. So soon.

...

A/N: Thank you to my three reviewers! I didn't think I'd get any but thanks a lot you guys! I know the first few chapters won't be that interesting but it will get good! Please do review!


	3. Chapter 3

"Where have you been?" my father wondered as soon as I walked into the house and stood on the doormat. Puddles pooled around me as I dropped my satchel onto the floor and wrung my hair out. He remained stood near the staircase, yoghurt in his hand as his other hand spooned the food into his mouth. "I thought you would have been home half an hour ago."

"I would have been," I said as I winced whilst tugging at my hair, "but my car decided to break down in the parking lot."

"How did you get home?" he asked me, a brow raised on his forehead as I removed my squelching shoes from my feet and kicked them to the side where all of my other shoes were. "Why didn't you call?"

"Professor Crane...he was still at the college...he gave me a lift," I said and my father's eyes went wide in shock and wonder. He placed his spoon into his yoghurt before he spoke again;

"Jonathan?" he checked with me and I nodded at him. "Jonathan gave you a lift home?"

"I don't see what the big deal is," I shrugged. Seriously, I would have done the same if I saw him struggling with his broken down car. I would have done it for anyone who I knew. My father didn't seem to think in the way which I did, though.

"That's odd," dad replied, blinking profusely as I sighed once and flapped my arms against my side.

"Why is it odd? He was being nice."

"Exactly," dad mumbled. "Crane doesn't do nice."

"I'm sure he's not as horrible as you're leading me to believe," I deadpanned and my dad shrugged.

"You should have called," he scolded me slightly. "There's something about Jonathan."

"What?" I wondered aloud. Yes, he was slightly...odd. But that was it. I couldn't find anything wrong with him. I thought he had been slightly pleasant and kind when I was in the car. Yes, he had done more than an average professor would have done, but that didn't make him a strange person.

"I can't explain," dad mumbled and he shrugged once, brushing it off as I shook my head. "I'm being daft. You had best go and change before you catch your death."

I trounced up the stairs, my clothes feeling ten times heavier than normal as I moved into my bedroom and shut the door. I quickly shut the curtains before moving into the shower in my en-suite. I slowly peeled the wet clothes off and threw them to the floor.

There was nothing wrong with Jonathan. He was a Professor and I was a student. And that was all there was to it.

...

My car had been vandalised. How joyful. I returned to college the next day with my dad and we had called for a mechanic to meet us there. He spoke to my dad, mainly telling him what to do next and how much it would cost for new part. I wasn't listening. I was more concerned about who would want to even vandalise my car. I didn't speak to anyone in college! I kept myself to myself and did no one any harm, but, it seemed someone didn't like me. My dad had forked out the necessary money on the spot, moaning under his breath as he did so.

On the way home, he asked me if I knew who would have done that to my precious Mercedes and that if he ever found out then they would pay for it. I wondered if CCTV was an option and dad snorted at that. Apparently, Gotham University didn't like to actually run the CCTV camera, claiming it cost too much money. So, clearly, security was tight.

Mom was as annoyed as my dad was, but, she didn't threaten to wring anyone's neck. She even became worried and wondered if coming home was an option. I told her not to be so silly; I didn't need her running back from NY when it was clear she was having a good time. I said it must have been a petty prank by someone. She didn't seem convinced but she dropped the matter when I told her dad had threatened to find who had done it.

"That's your father. Always thinking violence is the option," she had said rather condescendingly.

I had humoured her and told her to enjoy herself before I hung up and remained laid on my bed, looking over to my desk where my half finished paper was. Truth was, I just didn't care enough to get up and do it.

...

"How is your car?" his voice snuck up on me as I sat in the empty lecture hall. I was in the middle of the rows of seats, my books resting on the floor as I looked up and down to the front of the room. Professor Crane was stood on the stage, his hands in his pockets as the door swung shut behind him and he looked up to where I was sat.

"Someone took a part from it," I called down to him and he arched a brow, pushing his glasses further onto his nose as he did so.

"Really?" he wondered and I nodded. "Well, that's terrible. Do you know who would have done it?"

"No idea," I responded and he set his briefcase down onto the podium, opening it up and pulling some papers from it. I watched him and checked the time. I didn't think anyone was scheduled to be using this hall for the rest of the day, hence why I came in. It was a feeble attempt to finish the paper my father had set. We had only just handed one in on that Monday morning and another one was set.

"I'm not due to start my class for another twenty minutes," he informed me, closing his case and then placing papers onto the front rows of desks. "My class is small. There are only ten people. You're welcome to just sit there and continue working, if you need to."

"Oh, right," I mumbled. "Well...thanks...I might need to..."

"Is the library full again?" he asked me, a smirk on his face as he looked down onto the sheets of papers he was placing onto tables. Was he mocking me? Evidentially judging by the grin on his face.

"When isn't it?" I mumbled back and I heard him chuckle.

"Working on another paper?"

"My dad set another one this morning. It is due in on Wednesday."

"Harsh," he said, seeming to understand how horrible it was. I shrugged once, trying not to look too bothered as he walked up the steps and took a seat on the row in front of me, turning his upper body around as he rested his arms on the back of the chair.

"Why do you bother?" he wondered. "You don't intend to go into Law. You wouldn't make it. What is the point in these pony essays?"

"Have you met my father?" I asked him and he cocked his head to the side and nodded with my valid point. "I've been working at this for three years now. I'm not going to chuck away a degree. Besides, it could open doors for many other things."

"Like?" he pushed me and I bit down on my lip, twirling my pen in my hands as I did so.

"Something," I simply responded and his lips tugged up at the sides for a millisecond.

"You just can't say no, can you?" he said, amusement evident on his face and in his eyes. I could say no! I have said that word before! Just...to mediocre things...like sugar in my tea...or...when I don't want an add on at the mall.

"I really don't know what you're insinuating," I said, my nose sticking up into the air as he pushed his own brown hair behind his ears and took his glasses off. God, he had beautiful eyes. What? No! I couldn't think things like that! He was a professor! But he was only six years older than me. Was it that wrong? We ogled the PE teacher at high school.

"Nothing," Crane shrugged. "I just observed that you don't like to disappoint people. It is trait which many people take for granted."

"Well...I don't have to worry about being taken for granted," I mumbled back, trying to look back at my work as his eyes continued to watch me. Talk about off putting.

"As you've mentioned before," he responded in a whisper. "I'd best get back to my lesson plan and let you continue with your paper."

He stood up and walked down to the front of the room, sitting on a front seat with his legs crossed as he began work on his lesson, scribbling notes as he did so. It wasn't long until students began to walk into the lecture hall, sitting in their, seemingly, allocated seats.

I remained looking down at my work, trying not to listen as Professor Crane set about his work, yet, I couldn't focus. There was something about his voice. I couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't need to know what he was talking about but I felt I did. He commanded the room when he spoke. He never raised his voice and never became angry. He remained neutral, emotionless. But he was compelling. I looked up on more than one occasion and every time I did so, he noted me and looked up, but he never lost his point of conversation.

He ended his lecture by informing his students what they were to research and they moved out the room without any complaining. It was much different in comparison to when my father sent pupils away with a paper.

"You've only wrote half a page in the last hour," Crane commented as he shut his briefcase and I turned a slight red, my cheeks heating up as I did so.

"I don't really know what I'm writing," I admitted and he smirked once as he looked back up at me.

"You should tell your father that you don't understand," he said as he strolled across the wooden stage to the doorway.

"Are you going?" I wondered as his hand froze on the handle and he looked up at me. Christ. Did I just ask that? Of course, he was going. Why would he stay with me?

"I have research to do," he informed me. "I don't want to distract you any further."

By the time I registered what he had said, he had left me. I sunk down in my seat and shook my head. What was it about Jonathan Crane?

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed today! Means a lot to me! Glad you're all enjoying it! More to come very soon! P.S. I'm a gal!


	4. Chapter 4

"Professor Crane!"

Francois Dubois called after the young Professor when he saw him walking down the corridor towards his office. Jonathan stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side as he arched a brow at the elder man who had followed him for the last few hundred metres.

"Professor Dubois," Crane greeted back with a slight incline of his head. Francois remained silent as he looked at Jonathan for a couple of seconds.

"I just wanted to thank you for bringing Isabelle home the other night," Francois spoke, looking at the man with politeness and serenity in his eyes. Crane blinked for a few times, taking in what he had just said and he nodded back at him, holding his briefcase tight by his side. Now, he could put his plan into action.

"It was no bother at all," Jonathan assured him. "Your daughter is a pleasant individual."

"Yes," Francois agreed out of pride, his chin sticking upwards as he did so. "She's too kind, if anything."

"I can tell," Jonathan nodded, trying to hide the smirk which he wanted to form. "It is a trait which many take advantage of."

Francois remained silent, listening to what Jonathan had just said and he folded his arms against his chest, his black tie crumpling slightly as he did so.

"Well...Isabelle doesn't need to worry about that."

"She informed me of her lack of friends," Jonathan said and Francois winced. His little girl wasn't the perfect person he hoped she would be. Jonathan watched on for every singly tick of a reaction as he continued his torment on the man. Yes, Francois Dubois could easily beat him to a pulp. He knew he had been a keen rower and an excellent football player before he turned to teaching. But, Jonathan had his mind.

"So, she doesn't have to worry about friends taking advantage, does she?" Jonathan asked but Francois remained silent as a few students passed them in the hallway. "But, there are other people who bully her into things, I believe, anyway."

"Are there?" Francois wondered aloud, completely annoyed with the Professor.

"Oh yes," Jonathan nodded. "Her father can be an example. She openly admitted to me how she hated Law...but...she needed to take it because you were forcing her to. I don't mean to intrude, but, I can't help but think that is harsh, Professor Dubois. She isn't enjoying it and she doesn't understand. She isn't cut out for it."

"And she told you this, did she?" Francois snapped at Jonathan who shrugged airily back at the man.

"Yes," he admitted. "She's too scared of disappointing you to say anything."

"Well, with respect, _Professor,_" Francois hissed. "This is nothing to do with you."

"I was just telling you what happened," Jonathan held his hands up, palms outwards as he backed down the hallway, leaving Francois stood where he was. "I didn't mean to intrude."

Jonathan turned around, walking back to his office and finding himself unable to hold back the smirk which etched on his face.

Phase one was complete.

...

Christ. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I entered my father's office at the end of the day. He had called me back after the last lecture of the day and noises of 'ooh' and 'ah' echoed around the lecture hall. They were promptly shot down by my dad's barking.

I dutifully went back to his office, shutting the door and sitting down in the chair opposite him as he looked at me with narrowed eyes. I didn't know what I had done, but, I knew it wasn't good.

And then he let rip. He told me of how I shouldn't go around telling others of my issues. He yelled at me for speaking to Professor Crane about how I didn't understand Law and only did it because of my father. He asked me if I had any idea how that made him feel. He said he felt like a controlling monster to which I replied he was. That earned me another telling off. I became ungrateful. He was only trying to give me the best in Gotham.

And that was when I ran out crying. I couldn't take it anymore. Dad had told me that we would both need an hour or two to calm down and then we would go home and discuss it more quietly.

I don't know how he expected me to get home as my car was still in the garage. The bus seemed like an option for me to take.

But, I didn't go for the bus. I ran down the hallways, ignoring the looks and stares before I knocked on his office door. I wanted to know why he had done this. I wanted to know why he had blurted this out to my dad.

"Enter," he called out and I opened the door, slamming it shut behind me as he looked up from his paperwork. He never flinched once.

"Why did you tell him?" I yelled at him and he sighed.

"Phase Two," he mumbled to himself and I remained confused as he removed his glasses and dropped them into his pocket. "Your father had a right to know how insufferable you were finding your class."

"I have less than six months left!" I snapped at him. "I didn't need you to do this now!"

"I may have saved you six months of suffering. It was clear that you were never going to tell him. He would have pushed you into a career of Law if I hadn't have told him what you thought of it."

"He knew what I thought of it!" I roared. "Telling him wouldn't make a difference."

"Not from you, perhaps," Crane replied, lacing his fingers together and then resting them on his desk. His desk was tidy, papers stacked in piles on either side whilst a pen rested on the edge of the desk. A lamp sat on the corner and the rest of the office was dull and cream.

"But, when other people tell someone something then they are more likely to listen and to take into account their views," Crane informed me and I shook my head, wiping away my tears as he extended his hand and offered me the seat across from his desk. I took it as he stood up and moved over to the water cooler in his office.

"It wasn't your place to tell him," I muttered back to him. He thought he was helping. He thought he was being kind.

"Forgive me," he spoke, his voice bland. He didn't sound like he wanted me to forgive him. He didn't sound interested at all. "I thought I was helping."

"Well...you weren't...and now...well...he yelled at me and I don't even want to go home..."

"Then don't," Crane spoke, passing me a glass of water before sitting back down in his seat and picking his pen up as he started to write. "You can take an hour off, can't you? Clear your head."

"I suppose," I replied and drank the water. It was so good after my floods of tears. I drained it all before I placed the glass back onto his desk and I sighed once, running a hand through my hair. But I couldn't move my other hand. It wouldn't pick up.

"Professor Crane," I panicked as I tried again to move my hand. He peered up at me from over his glasses, his eyes unconcerned as a groggy feeling took over me. What had happened?

"What's happening?" I asked him and he looked at me with confusion.

"Nothing," he replied as my lids fluttered about and everything began to spin. The next thing I knew, unconsciousness had taken over me.

...

Jonathan sighed once. He hadn't even finished his sentence when she decided to slump down in her chair. He dotted the last I and stood up, tucking his chair back under his desk as she slept soundly opposite him. Dropping the solution into her water had been too easy. And now, here she was, putty in his hands. Jonathan walked around to her, using two fingers to check her pulse before he set about picking her up and into his arms. She was light, he would give her that. Her body was limp in his hold as he checked the fire exit in his office was clear. Luckily, he had parked his car next to his office, knowing he shouldn't. But, this was an urgent matter.

He gently placed her sleeping body into the backseat of the car and ran his hand over her cheek, pushing her hair out of her face as her mouth parted slightly.

"Phase Three."

...

He had brought her back to his apartment on the edge of Gotham City. If he looked out of the window he could just see the Narrows. The place where fear was instilled into people. Everyone feared everyone and everything. It was how it should be.

He had rested Isabelle on his sofa before rushing into his bedroom and pulling out the needle which contained the toxin. It was perfect. Her father and she had been arguing. He would think she had run away, unable to take his controlling attitude anymore. It would explain her disappearance. It would explain everything. He could keep her with him. He could test the toxin on her. His own guinea pig.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, his hand holding the toxin as his other hand softly ran up and down her neck and onto her cheek. She was weak and unable to do anything. It was perfect. It was what he had been looking for.

He sat there for five minutes, but, he did nothing. He just sat. His eyes were glittering with intrigue and delight. What would happen if he did it? Would the toxin be perfect? What did she fear?

_Come on, Jonathan. She's yours! This is what we need! A willing volunteer! _The voice inside his head egged him on as he remained looking down onto her pale sleeping face.

He had contemplated experimenting on his small group of students. But he then met Miss Dubois. He met her and he knew he had someone to manipulate. He had someone to mould.

He remained sat on the edge of the sofa, knowing he would have to inject her before she woke up fully. It was now or never. He noted her wriggle about in her sleep, her head moving from one side to the other as her arm, unknowingly, knocked against his, her hand resting on top of his.

Jonathan froze, unable to even think of what to do. It was contact. He had touched people before. This was nothing special. She was nothing special.

He jumped up, pacing up and down the living room, his hand running through his hair as he looked at the toxin before throwing the syringe against the wall. The glass shattered and the liquid tumbled out.

...

What the hall had happened? I didn't know if I dared to open my eyes or not. I was scared. Too scared to comprehend the nature of what had happened.

"I know you're awake," his cold voice spoke and I had no choice but to peel my eyes open. I looked around the room, noting I was laid down on some kind of leather sofa as I pushed myself upwards, my head feeling weak. "Your breathing pattern changed."

"Where am I?" I asked, noting that he was sat at a desk, his back turned to me as he stopped writing for a second and tapped the end of the pen against the wood of the small desk.

"My apartment," he responded. I grabbed onto my head and I looked around. His apartment. It would explain the neutral cream on the walls and the brown carpets. There were few furnishings, only a TV, sofa and a coffee table. A kitchen was opposite me and it was black granite, covered with all of the mod cons which you would need. It was sparse, empty and expensive. Much like the Professor, himself.

"Why am I here?" I asked and I saw his shoulder slump downwards. I had a right to ask this many questions. I was confused and dazed. I don't remember falling asleep or even getting here. I don't remember anything...except...rowing with my dad and then going to see Professor Crane.

"You had an argument with your father. You came into my office and yelled at me, telling me I had no right to delve into your life. You tripped over the leg of the chair and hit your head against my desk. It knocked you out." He said clinically as if it was an everyday occurrence.

"So...you brought me here?" I checked. It seemed odd. I didn't understand it. He finally stood up and turned to look at me. The glasses which he wore slowly moved off of him and he placed them onto his desk as I began to shiver. I wasn't cold. I was worried.

"You had specifically said that you didn't want to go home. I made sure you weren't injured severely before I brought you back here."

"We could have stayed at college," I suggested. "My dad should know."

"Your phone hasn't gone off," he informed me and I noted my device on the arm of the sofa. "I think he thinks you both need some space. I couldn't leave you alone but I had to come home. The rest of my work was here."

"I was unconscious!" I snapped at him. Damn his work.

"I'm aware," he drawled back to me. "You're also shivering."

"I don't know why," I muttered back and he handed me his blazer from off the back of his chair at his desk.

"It will be the shock," he said simply to me. "Take this. It should help."

I took the garment from him, draping it over my shoulders as I rubbed my arms up and down, pulling the tight skirt I was wearing down my tight covered legs as I checked my blouse was in place.

"Your apartment...is...nice..." I said, trying to make conversation as he shrugged. Did anything bother him? He seemed particularly moody tonight.

"It's a base," he simply said. "I don't spend a lot of time here."

"Oh?"

"Hm," he simply responded. "It's on the outside of Gotham. Not far away from your house."

"Do you live alone?" I enquired, noting that it was eerily quiet. His lips seemed to tug up for a moment before he nodded once at me.

"I don't have a girlfriend or a wife, if that is what you were wondering," he informed me and I felt my cheeks redden again as I coughed to hide my embarrassment. No, that wasn't what...well...maybe...I just wondered.

"I just wondered," I mumbled back at him.

"I live alone," he stated. "I always have done."

"It must be nice," I simply shrugged. "Then you can do what you want when you want."

"It is," he assured me. "I like it this way."

"I should be getting back." I mumbled and he nodded in agreement before I stood up. Jesus, that wasn't clever. My head spun as I wobbled around on my feet. The floor came into close view, but, I didn't hit it. His arms were around my waist, holding me tightly against his body as my hands gripped onto his shoulders and he looked down at me.

"Are you okay?" he checked with me, his voice stiff as his thumb stroked up and down the material of my sheer blouse and I felt myself shiver. This was not how I was supposed to act! It wasn't supposed to be like this!

"Dizzy," I commented and he nodded, releasing one of his arms from my waist as he guided me to his apartment door.

"It's natural," he promised. "You may feel light headed too. Just take it easy."

Once I managed to get into the car, the ride was silent. He didn't say anything and I didn't say anything as we pulled up outside of my house. He looked at me as I removed his jacket but he shook his head, opening his door and walking around to my door.

"What are you doing?" I asked him and he nodded at my pathway.

"Making sure you get in safely," he said as if it were obvious. "You could have concussion. I'm not going to kick you out."

"My dad's home!" I snapped.

"No kidding," he said, looking at the light which was shining from the living room and I rolled my eyes. "I'm a Professor, Isabelle. I was helping a student. You can tell him that I found you collapsed in the hall and that we stayed at college to make sure you were alright."

"Okay," I agreed. He didn't need to know the truth.

"Come on," he demanded, his voice stern as he helped me from the car.

"Isabelle," my dad's voice worried as the door opened and I stopped in front of him. He looked over at Crane with narrowed eyes before the Professor began to explain.

"She was in college. She had tripped over a chair leg and knocked her head on the table. She had passed out and so I kept her in the nurses room until she was awake and well enough to come home...I tried to call you but the phone wasn't working..." Crane explained; his voice low and full of authority as my dad looked at us both.

"Are you alright?" he checked with me and I nodded.

"Just dizzy."

"I'll call a doctor."

"No need," Crane interrupted. "I think she has a mild case of concussion. She just needs to take it easy for the next few days."

"I will still call a doctor," dad growled as he removed Jonathan's jacket from my shoulders. "Thanks for your help, Professor Crane."

...

Jonathan knew he had been dismissed. He had smiled politely, taking his jacket back as he looked at Isabelle who was looking at the ground timidly. The atmosphere was tense. Jonathan made his goodbyes, smirking on his way back to the car. He knew he would wind Francois up by taking Isabelle to her door. The thought of another man helping his daughter wasn't something which he enjoyed. Especially a man who he thought was odd and had confronted him.

Jonathan climbed into his car and drove off. Phase Four had never been completed. He couldn't inject her. He didn't know why. A moment of weakness. He never had them. He couldn't have them, but, he couldn't inject her. He'd do it. He'd prove he could do it. Isabelle Dubois wasn't getting the better of him, just yet.

...

Thank you to all of my reviewers for leaving me a comment! And to all those who are following this now! It means a lot! But, please, let me know what you think! Keeping Crane in character can be difficult but I hope I'm managing it! One moment to let me know what you think, please?


	5. Chapter 5

Francois Dubois wasn't dense and he certainly wasn't naive. He knew something wasn't right. His daughter had been – seemingly – rescued by Jonathan Crane twice in a short space of time. He had seen the way Crane had held his daughter, his arm around her in a possessive manner. Isabelle didn't think anything was happening. She thought he was being pleasant and charming. Francois believed he was being something else. He didn't trust him.

He especially didn't trust him when he found out that he had been lied to. Jonathan had told him they had stayed in the nurse's office for a while. It wasn't possible. Francois had gone to his office after his argument with Isabelle and he found it to be empty. He passed the nurse's room on the way.

He pushed Isabelle for an answer but she said she didn't remember anything. She only remembered being led to Jonathan's car and that was all. He didn't know if his daughter was lying to him or if she was telling him the truth. But, he knew they hadn't been in the office.

"Professor Dubois," Crane spoke as he looked up to see who had walked through his office door. He wasn't shocked. He had been expecting a visit from Isabelle's father. Ah, Isabelle. "What can I do for you?"

"What did you do to my daughter?" Francois snapped, slamming the door shut so that the glass in it rattled. Jonathan loosened his tie slightly as Francois placed his hands onto his hips and looked at the younger man. "I know you weren't in the nurse's station. I came by that way after college hours and it was empty. Now, what did you do to my daughter?"

Jonathan inhaled sharply, removing his glasses from his eyes and blinking into the light, trying to adjust his sight. How he wanted to poison this man with his toxin.

"What has Isabelle said?" Jonathan enquired and Francois felt himself shiver at hearing the man say his daughter's name like he did. It rolled off of his tongue and sounded so slimy.

"Nothing," Francois replied. "She says she doesn't remember anything."

Jonathan hid the snort which wanted to escape his lips as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How convenient. She was playing dumb with her father. She was truly scared of the man. She didn't want to disappoint him.

"I'm not surprised. She took quite the fall," Jonathan said and Francois's hand rolled around, indicating for Crane to tell him something which he didn't know. "No, we didn't stay here. Well, we were here for a while and then I helped her to the car and we sat there for a while."

"Why?" Francois snapped. He didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"She was still feeling dizzy. Driving would not have been ideal, nor would moving her," Jonathan said quickly back to him, continuing with the writing in his journal. Francois turned a tinge of red as the man opposite him ignored him. "I didn't mention that as I didn't think it was important. I don't know what the big deal is."

"Oh?" Francois replied, his eyes going large as he loosened the red tie around his neck and looked at Crane. "You don't know what the big deal is?"

"No," Jonathan replied, his voice low and full of boredom. "I have helped your daughter twice. I don't see how that could be a bad thing for you. If anything, it shows that I am around for her more than you are."

Francois' slight tinge of red turned into a full blown colour as anger surged through his body and he moved over to Crane's desk, his hands resting flat onto the wood as he leaned forward, their eyes locking. One set held pure anger and the other held vague amusement.

"Listen to me," Francois drawled out, "I don't know what your game is with my Isabelle, but, I am warning you to back off. I have an idea why you're doing this...worming your way to my daughter..."

_You have no idea at all, and, if you do, then I will be extremely impressed _– Jonathan thought as he waited for an answer. He leant back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap as he arched a brow, waiting for a thorough explanation.

"What do you think I am doing?" he wondered. "I'm the Psychology professor and I can't tell what you're thinking."

"You know she's weak," Francois drawled. "She's not unattractive, either. Any sign of attention from a male is something which she will instantly love because she's never had it."

"I see," Jonathan said, a small smirk moving onto his face and he nodded in understanding with what was being implied. "You think I want to sleep with her, don't you?"

Francois looked away, feeling uncomfortable as Jonathan chuckled and shook his head, placing his glasses back onto his nose.

"You think this is funny?" he checked with him and Jonathan shrugged.

"I think you're wrong. You don't know what you're talking about. I have other things to worry about other than getting into your daughter's pants," Jonathan hissed, looking down his nose as he did so and Francois didn't know what to think.

"I don't believe you," Francois snapped. "I saw the way you held her last night...your...I'm watching you, Crane. Mark my words."

"Consider them marked," Jonathan drawled as he motioned to the door. "I have work to do...if you don't mind."

"This isn't over," Francois promised him before he left the room. Crane dropped his pen as soon as he heard the door shut and he leant forward. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. Jonathan didn't appreciate being told what to do. He didn't appreciate being threatened. He would show Professor Dubois. He would break him. And, he had the perfect meal ticket to do just that.

...

I knew that I shouldn't go back to work, but, my father's constant brooding and question asking was doing my head in. He was constantly asking me if I remembered anything about that night. I kept telling him that I didn't, insisting that Professor Crane was just being nice to me.

I knew that he thought there was something else happening.

It embarrassed me to even talk to him about it. If only he knew what I was thinking.

"Table number twelve," the order was barked at me as I stood in the front of the kitchen of the restaurant I waitressed at. I took the plate which contained a pasta salad as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and walked through the busy restaurant. My father had secured me a job here as a waitress. It paid well and helped to get me out of the house. It was expensive, too. It was the type of place where you'd find the likes of rich people and socialites. People like my mom and dad.

"Chicken pasta salad?" I checked as I looked at the food and then down at the occupant of number twelve. "Oh...Professor Crane...you're...well...here..."

"You don't need a degree to know that," he replied back to me with a smirk on his face as he sipped on the water.

"I've never seen you here before," I informed him as I set the food down in front of him and he nodded once at me, looking at the salad before back into my eyes.

"It's new. I thought I should come out a little more."

And you so happen to be at the restaurant which I work at? No! Don't think so negatively! Why would he stalk me down? He didn't know that I worked here. Why would he? It was coincidental. Half of the college professors dined here.

"Well, enjoy the food," I said, the towel over my arm slapping against my side as he looked up at me.

"Your father has been persistent," he said back to me and I looked around the room where the manager was stood behind the bar, watching me like a hawk. He watched everyone who was distracted from their work. Crane must have followed my gaze as he smirked once and picked his knife and fork up.

"What time do you finish?" he wondered.

"Ten," I said quickly. "I need to get back to work."

I scurried off, receiving a telling off on my way back to the kitchen as I did so. I quickly moved around the room, depositing dishes of food onto people's tables, wishing the night would end. I could feel his gaze on me sometimes. He was most off putting. I didn't know what he was doing and I don't know why he was so intent on looking. Waitressing wasn't interesting, at all.

Ten finally came and I grabbed my coat, flinging it over my shoulder as I pulled my car keys from my pocket. I didn't expect him to still be there by the time I had completed all the chores in the kitchen. But, he was sat on a bar stool at the bar, sipping on a water as I walked out. I didn't know whether to go straight past him or to wait. It was all too weird. He was a Professor! How many times had I told myself that? It didn't matter.

"I believe we were discussing your father?" Crane checked with me as I paused by the stool which he was sat on.

"Has he been bothering you?" I wondered aloud and Crane shrugged once, seeming uninterested.

"He has had words with me," he admitted. "We should talk in private."

"Okay," I agreed. In private with him was something I didn't plan on turning down. "Where do you want to go?"

"Well...we both have cars and I know a small cafe. No one goes in it. Follow me there."

...

I tried not to lose him on the drive and I also tried to drive calmly, but, I managed to stall it once. I would choose now, of all times, to look like an idiot when driving.

He parked in a cafe parking lot and I parked a few spaces away, taking a deep breath before climbing out and looking at Crane as he waited by his boot for me. I followed him into the cafe and he was eight. It was quiet. There was one man and one woman sat at different tables, books in front of them and coffee in different cups in front of them. He sat us down in a booth at the back, near the window. The surroundings were dark and quiet. The room was small, wooden floors and red walls. A large bar sat at the front of the room, containing your typical cafe things.

A waitress came over and took the order. He ordered a coffee. Extra strong. I opted for a hot chocolate and then we lapsed into silence for a second.

"Your father seems to think that I'm trying it sleep with you," he informed me. Crap. I felt myself begin to hyperventilate at his words, but, he remained calm. Nothing bothered him and nothing ever would, I was sure of that much. He was so collected, guarded and emotionless. I didn't know what to think the majority of the time I was with him. He was too confusing for me to keep up with.

"Well...he thinks any boy who looks my way is trying to do that..." I denied as the cups were placed in front of us and Crane nodded in thanks.

"I'm not a college boy," he replied, his brow arching as he did so.

"No," I agreed, "but you're not far off."

"True," he agreed. "You don't need to worry. Your father is wrong."

"I know," I agreed with him. "It would be inappropriate, anyway. You're a Professor."

"And you're a student," he clarified.

"I am," I replied in a mutter, "only for six months, though."

"And do you not think that this," he motioned to our drinks, "is inappropriate?"

"Yes," I said truthfully and hastily as Crane smirked once.

"So, it seems, we have taken things to an inappropriate level." He chuckled. "Although, this level is enough, I believe."

"Quite," I mumbled in response. He unnerved me terribly but I couldn't leave. No matter how much I wanted to go and stop this relationship form developing...I couldn't.

"So...what are we going to do?" he wondered and I wrapped my hands around my cup, feeling its warmth.

"What do you mean?"

"Do we continue with the inappropriateness, or do we stop?" he wondered. "I already know your answer."

"Then why ask?"

"I need to be sure."

"I..." I trailed off and shrugged once, looking down into the liquid. "I like to spend time with you."

"Do you?" he replied and I nodded at him. He chuckled again and looked me in the eye, removing his glasses as he did so and tucking them into his jacket pocket and loosening the tie around his neck.

"If you don't-"

"-You always do that," he interrupted me and I blinked profusely.

"What?"

"Undermine yourself," he spoke. "I don't understand you."

"You're a Professor. I thought you may have better things to do with your time other than sit here and drink coffee with me."

"I do," he agreed and I frowned. "But, I prefer to be here."

...

Jonathan sat opposite her for another hour, listening to her as she assured him she wouldn't tell her father a thing and he promised he wouldn't say anything. Until she graduated, her studies came first, but, she admitted she would like to spend more time with Jonathan. He had smiled, but, it didn't reach his eyes as he looked at her. He often reached his hand across the table, stroking her cheek softly and he felt her melt into his hold. He felt her lap up the attention which he was giving her.

She wasn't a complicated person. They bid goodnight and took off in separate directions as Jonathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She was messing with his mind. He was with her to get to her father. He was annoying him further. He wanted to ruin Francois Dubois. And the best way to do that was through Isabelle. And he could destroy her too. The toxin had been a moment of weakness. No more of them were available.

...

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! Please, please, let me know what you think, guys! It would mean a lot to me!


	6. Chapter 6

Jonathan knew time wasn't an issue. He could dose her with the poison whenever he felt like it, but, in six months, he had done nothing. He hadn't even managed to drug her again. The pair of them kept their distance from each other, finishing out the college year like what had been agreed. Isabelle would often find herself trying to catch up on her lessons, her mind always being distracted during them. Jonathan wasn't as easily led. The toxin he had was being tested on his students. His small group of naively, assuming students. And, it was almost there.

He didn't ignore Isabelle, of course, that would be rude and it wouldn't get him to the result of winding her father up. He often stopped to talk to her in the hall when it was quiet, and then, Francois would appear and a grin would always settle on Jonathan's face as he watched him bark at his daughter. He popped by the library too sometimes, watching her work as he scanned the bookshelves and she remained intent on her studies.

But, they soon came to end. Six months was up and Isabelle was no longer a student. She graduated, at least. She wasn't top of her class, but, by no means, was she at the bottom. Jonathan had sat in the rows of seats with other Professors as he watched her take her degree shyly and then sit back down. Her mother was near the front, calm and composed as she watched her daughter and Francois had a proud smile on his face.

How Jonathan couldn't wait to see that removed.

...

"They say this is the first day for the rest of your life." His voice spoke as I stood with the rolled up piece of paper in my hand and away from the marquee which had been set up on the lawn. My mom and dad had met up with some friends who they once knew when they were married. They had congratulated me out of courtesy, but, I was then dismissed. I wandered through the large tent before moving onto the grassed lawn which was slightly damp from the current rain. I found myself by my mom's car in the car park, waiting for her to come back.

"And who would they be?" I wondered, resting against the hood of the car as I pulled my black tights up and under the black fitted dress which I was wearing. It was becoming increasingly sweaty underneath the heavy gown and the graduate hat which sat on top of my hair.

"Just people," he shrugged and leant against the car beside me, a few centimetres away as I placed my degree behind me and set about taking the hat off. "Congratulations, by the way, you managed to actually pass."

"You sound shocked," I commented dryly, to which he shrugged, pushing his glasses further onto his nose as he did so.

"There was a time when I didn't think you'd stick it out," he admitted. "You were in the library and were slamming books around. I didn't think you could take much more."

"That was near the last exam," I replied back to him. "I was stressed."

"And now?" he wondered as I held the hat in both hands, crossing my legs at my ankles as I smiled gently.

"I feel better," I replied, trying to be bright as I looked up to the blue sky and Jonathan's eyes followed me.

"And does your father know that you're not going into Law?" he wondered and I bit down on my bottom lip, my eyes instantly downcast as he chuckled once, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looked to the ground.

"I take that as a no," he replied and I groaned gently.

"I've told my mom and she said that's fine. She asked if I wanted a job in her accountancy firm," I snorted at the memory and he looked back at me, a grin of amusement held on his face through his plump lips. "I turned that down, too. She said we would deal with dad after graduation."

"Unfortunately, it is after graduation," Captain Obvious pointed out and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him as I ran a hand through my hair. "You'll get by with him. How do you intend to tell him about us?"

And then I remained confused. Us? He thought I was going to go home, tell my dad I hated Law and didn't intend to go into it, and then he expected me to tell him I was intending on dating a College Professor who he hates? Was he crazy?

"What about us?" I wondered, wanting him to spell it out for me and he rubbed the lens of his glasses with the sleeve of his jumper as he sniffed.

"You're no longer a student," he drawled. "I think it is clear that you need to tell him what we intend to do."

"What's that?"

"Do I have to be so pathetic and say it like everyone else does? The word is so mediocre and tame," he complained and I did roll my eyes at him this time. He looked across to me, his face cold and emotionless as I laughed once and he grinned in vague amusement.

"Dating?" I pushed him and he shrugged at me.

"Is that what you want?"

"Is it what you want?" I replied back to him and he didn't do anything. He was so confusing. Why would I tell my dad about us if he didn't want to date me? He was guarded and closed, so cold, yet, he was intense and I knew he cared...somewhere...deep down. He had to.

"I've never dated before," he replied.

"Neither have I," I replied back to him and he snorted, an eyebrow raised in scepticism. "What? I haven't!"

"Seriously?" he checked. "Have you seen yourself?"

"Every day when I try to tame my hair in the mirror," I simply responded and he rolled his eyes at me. "Look...I don't think I can tell him that..."

"So what do you intend to do?" he wondered with a shrug. "Keep it from him? Isabelle, we're not sneaking around behind his back."

"I'll think of something. I'll do something."

...

"This is some kind of joke!" my dad yelled as we stood in the front living room. He and mom had managed to reconcile to take me out for a meal to celebrate my graduation. Dad had been going on about how I would make an excellent DA when I came out my shell. He even told me that Carl Finch was a personal friend. He was going to buy me a place in the DA's office.

It wasn't me who flipped. It was mom. She slammed her knife onto her plate of lasagne and glared at my father, letting the cat out the bag. I remained silent, listening to the pair of them arguing as I looked at my fish, which was going cold. My appetite had suddenly been lost.

We had driven home in silence. Dad didn't want to make a scene at the restaurant. Mom had sat by his side, her eyes glaring into the side of his head as I shook my head, my hands holding themselves as I watched Gotham pass by at night. Once we arrived home...well...then it exploded.

"You can't control her, Francois!" Mom yelled at him in the living room and dad snorted once and shook his head.

"I don't!" he yelled back at her. "Why don't we ask her? Isabelle...why did you decide to waste three years of your life with a subject you have no interest in?"

"What?" I snapped back at him, unable to believe he had asked me that stupid question. "I didn't get a say!"

"You went along with it!" My father yelled back at me, his hands on his hips as he looked at the ground, his head moving back and forth. "I thought you were going through a phase! You always worked hard! If you didn't like it then you would have stopped!"

"Since when did you learn how to read people?" Mom snapped at him, standing by the sofa, her cheeks red and her hair matted to her face as he snorted. "The last I knew, you were a Law Professor...not Psychology!"

"I will leave that job to our good Professor Crane," he hissed, looking at me and I blushed, looking at the ground as I did so.

"The Professor who helped Is?" Mom checked with him. "He seemed polite-"

"-He's a creep!" my dad yelled. "Has he put you up to this?"

"What?" I snapped at my dad. "Jonathan doesn't tell me what to do, dad!"

"I've seen you two whispering in corridors," dad said, his hand fluttering outwards as he looked around in disgust and my eyes went wide at hearing that. "And he's Jonathan, is he, now?"

"Yes!" I yelled back, becoming exasperated with the conversation. "Considering we're dating, now!"

Crap. Oh, dear God. Had I just said that? Had I really just blurted that out? It seemed so, considering the atmosphere's mood shifted from one of anger to one of extreme hatred and rage. Mom's mouth hung open and dad's eyes glared at me.

"You're dating him?" he checked and I shrugged once. "You think I will allow this? What has he done to you?"

"He hasn't done anything to me," I snapped back. "Jonathan is only six years older than me, dad. How old is Daniel, mom?"

"It doesn't matter!" Dad snapped back as mom began to speak but didn't get a chance to. She seemed too shocked to even contemplate speaking about this revelation. "Jonathan Crane is no good for you. He's...he's not right..."

"There is nothing wrong with him!" I yelled back. I don't think my face had ever gone that high before. But, I was annoyed. He though Jonathan had persuaded me to go against him. He did that himself when he pushed me into Law. "Do you think he persuaded me to defy you? No! He didn't! I told you what I wanted but you never listened! You never listen! Jonathan understands me!"

"Don't yell at me," Dad warned me and I bit down on my cheek. "I am your father and you're not going anywhere near him."

"You don't tell me what to do anymore," I declared. I was fed up. I knew he wouldn't understand. He didn't like Jonathan, regardless of anything.

"Where are you going, honey?" Mom asked me as I grabbed my bag and car keys from the chair I had dumped them on.

"I'm going," I simply responded to her. "I can't stay here...with this..."

"You're going nowhere," my dad declared back to me and I looked at him with clouded eyes.

"Yes, I am," I replied. "You never listen to me...do you even care?"

"Yes!" he said quickly. "I'm your father. I've done the best for you-"

"-No you haven't," I interrupted. "You really haven't."

...

I vaguely remembered where Jonathan's apartment was. He had told me the street name and the number of the building. The apartment number was a different thing. I practically abandoned my car on the side of the sidewalk before locking it up and numbly walking up to the building, looking the names against the buzzers. In neat writing, there he was. Crane. Number Fourteen. I pressed down on the shiny, silver button, hearing thunder rumble in the clouds above me as my cell vibrated for the fifth time. I didn't intend on answering it. I knew who it would be.

"Hello?" his voice came through the metal box.

"It's me," I said simply back to him and I heard a sigh. "He knows."

"Come up."

...

Jonathan buzzed Isabelle into his apartment, standing back and taking a moment to compose himself as he thought about what she had just said. So, Francois knew. He wasn't too bothered. He had done what he needed to do. He had turned his daughter against him. He was slowly destroying him through Isabelle. But, the ultimate weapon of destruction wasn't in his hands. The toxin was in his bedroom, ready to inject into her. Ready to make her go mad. He could have her committed to Arkham if he wanted to. But...he had had six months to do that...and he didn't want to.

Well, Jonathan didn't want to. He had tossed and turned in his sleep, fighting the growing voice in his head which told him to do it. It wanted Isabelle to suffer. It thought she was making him weak. It thought Jonathan was even falling for her like she was doing for him. Jonathan continuously told it to shut up. It didn't know what it was talking about.

"I take it the news didn't go down too well?" Jonathan guessed as soon as he opened the door and found Isabelle stood there. She was wearing the tight fitting dress from her graduation, the sleeveless number which helped to accentuate her tiny waist and her pale face.

"He...I think he hates me..." Isabelle drawled. He had expected tears. He had expected her to be a hysterical mess, falling down in front of him and pleading for him to make it alright. Maybe, she was stronger than he had assumed.

"I doubt that," Jonathan said dryly back to her, allowing her into his apartment as he shut the door. He had removed his tie from around his neck and had the top button to his pinstriped shirt undone. "What did you say?"

"He was going on about how I should have told him outright...how he thought my hating Law was just a strop...and then...you came into it...he thought you'd poisoned my mind...I told him that I was stronger than that and that you never did such a thing...and then...well...it slipped out..."

Jonathan remained silent, closing his eyes for a second and imaging Dubois face as his daughter told him the news. Oh, how it made him want to smile. But, now wasn't the time nor the place. He had bigger things to worry about. Isabelle was in his apartment again. He could give her the toxin.

"You should sit down," Jonathan urged her, his hand on the small of her back as he pushed her to sit down on the sofa. He took a seat beside her, turning giddy at the prospect of what he could do to her.

"He does hate me," Isabelle nodded and Jonathan sat down beside her. "He hates you, too."

"Thanks for that confidence boost," Jonathan snorted once and Isabelle smiled weakly at him.

"I can't believe all of this has happened!" she groaned, dropping her head into her hands as Jonathan instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist. Where had that come from? She shyly looked up, turning her eyes to look at him and he brushed her hair behind her ears, the touch of it soft on his fingertips as he heard her breathing shallow.

"It will be alright," he promised her. "Your father has done nothing but make you miserable."

"No," she shook her head, resting by his side as his body turned rigid at the contact. "He hasn't."

"From what I've seen...Isabelle...he's made you feel weak and vulnerable because he is so controlling. You deserve better than this. You know it, and so do I," Jonathan said, his voice stern and full of control as the girl next to him wiped away a tear.

He didn't know what he was doing. For the rest of the night, he held her in his arms, both of them silent as Jonathan rested back and Isabelle placed her head onto his shoulder. That was when the demons came out to play.

The voice said he was weak and pathetic. It said that she was making him into someone he despised, someone who would do anything for a girl. Jonathan couldn't help but agree. He had the chance to use the toxin on Isabelle, but he couldn't. For the last six months he had watched her. He had become infatuated with her. He was a controlling man and he knew he could control her. She did anything which was asked of her. Yes, Jonathan knew he wanted to control her...he wanted to be the one to hold her, to look after her, to upset her, to please her. If he couldn't have her then no one could. He knew that much. There was only one issue. Her father.

He allowed Isabelle to remain resting against him before he stood up and she moved, wondering where he was going to. He said he needed a drink and he brought her some water. In the next three minutes she was asleep. He rested her on the sofa, pulling a blanket over her before he grabbed his toxin and drove to her house in the dead of the night. The leather gloves were slipped onto his hands, his glasses removed from his face.

And then he found his mask, and his inner demon took over.

...

A/N: Quite a few followers now! Thanks guys! But, please let me know what you think! Keeping Crane in character is proving to be tough now!


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh...Jonathan..." Isabelle gasped as she felt his cold hands on her bare arms and he nudged her gently. She blinked quickly, instantly wondering where she was as panic set into her body. Jonathan sat on the edge of the cushion, both of his hands wrapped around her upper arms as she sat up slowly, gathering her bearings as she ran her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry...I must have dozed off..."

"You have nothing to apologise for," his cold voice spoke in a soft tone as she smiled weakly. She hadn't dozed off. He had made her sleep, but, it was irrelevant. She didn't remember anything of it. Jonathan smiled weakly at her, feeling pleased with himself after the outcome of the evening. How magnificent it had been, indeed.

His toxin was better than he had ever imagined. And, tomorrow morning, some hospital would be calling Isabelle, pleading with her to come down as her father had suffered a nervous breakdown. He left him with only one word to mutter.

Scarecrow.

It was taking over him and Jonathan knew it, but, he knew he had to regain some control. Isabelle depended on it.

"Are you still tired?" he asked her and she shrugged once, leaning against the arm of the sofa as Jonathan released his hands from her arms and ran them down to her waist, holding her tightly as she turned red under his touch. Power and Control. It was something which Jonathan adored. The mind would always be more powerful than the body, but, at that moment, the way she was reacting to his touch made that statement seem false.

"I'm not sure," she mumbled in response, remembering the argument with her father. "What time is it?"

"Half past three," Jonathan stated, his glasses falling onto the edge of his nose as he checked the time on the watch around his wrist.

"I should go home," she worried, trying to stand up. Jonathan moved slightly, allowing her to push her body off of the sofa as he stood up. "My dad will be worried."

"It is three in the morning," Jonathan said blandly. "You can't go wandering the streets of Gotham at this time of night. Do you know how dangerous the city is?"

"I have a car," Isabelle muttered back to him, grabbing her bag and Jonathan grabbed onto her wrist, stopping her from moving over to the door as she looked into his eyes, wondering what he was doing. His hold was tight as he brought her body back to his and she breathed deeply.

"You can't go," he said back to her, his voice low and slightly stern as Isabelle's eyes went wide and she looked at him. "It's too dangerous out there. Wait until morning. Text him, if you need to."

"I'd feel better-"

"-It isn't up for discussion, Isabelle," Jonathan said, his eyes flashing dangerously before he coughed and composed himself. That was too much. He didn't want to scare her off. He knew how easily worried she could become. "I would feel better and so would your father, even though he hates me. You've practically been here for the full night, anyway."

"Are you sure?" she asked, biting down on her lip and Jonathan nodded once at her.

He allowed her to stay on his sofa whilst he rested on his bed for a few hours. He was waiting for her cell to go off. He was waiting for the call to come through. He didn't know who was going to discover Francois Dubois in his home, but, he had his money on Isabelle's mother. He had left his door open, able to hear her gentle sighs as she drifted into dream world again and he remained still, his hands on his stomach as he battled against the voice inside of him.

He wouldn't use his toxin on her. He wouldn't do it, regardless of how much he wanted him to. Isabelle was different. She was different to anyone else who he had met. She was the first woman he could handle touching and not be shy around. She needed him to look after her.

The call came at seven a.m. He listened as Isabelle sat up and moaned as she fumbled in her bag for the device. She pulled it out after a while, pressing it to her ear as Jonathan imagined her movements. Her mother had stopped by before work to find him lying on the ground in the sitting room, muttering the same word over and over again. Isabelle didn't understand it.

Jonathan moved from his bed, stretching as he entered the living room and he yawned, pretending he had just woken up as Isabelle's hands ran through her hair frantically. He loved it when she did that. He loved the way her blonde curls bounced around her head.

"Is something wrong?" he wondered and she turned around to look at him, her phone in her hand as Jonathan arched a slender brow in her direction.

"My dad...he's...something's not right...he's at the hospital...in the mental wing...I need to go."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Jonathan wondered and Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip and she shrugged.

"You don't need to," she replied as Jonathan grabbed his blazer and shrugged himself into it. Isabelle stood up and pulled her black dress down which had been revealing far too much thigh. Jonathan moved back into his room, grabbing another blazer and draping it over her shoulders before he offered her his arm and led her down to his car. He had persuaded her that she wasn't fit enough to drive.

The ride to the hospital was silent. Jonathan focused on the driving and Isabelle worried about her father.

"Honey!" Lydia Monroe gushed when she saw her daughter walk into the wing of the hospital which she needed to be in. Jonathan stood back slightly as Isabelle hugged her mother tightly and he watched. Her mother was different to her father. She was strong willed, yes, but not as stubborn. She cared for her daughter deeply. He didn't see her giving him any bother.

"How is he?"

"I don't know," Lydia shook her head, pushing her blonde hair behind her ear as she released her daughter. "The doctors say that he has suffered from a mental breakdown and that he has been hallucinating." She noted the jacket which her daughter was wearing and she glanced at Jonathan as Isabelle pulled the blazer tighter around her body.

"How long has he been like it?" Isabelle worried as Jonathan took his stand beside her and Lydia looked at him. He removed his glasses slowly, dropping them into his pocket as he looked at Isabelle, his arm wrapping around her waist. He had to persuade the mother that he was there for the daughter to win her trust. If he won her trust then she wouldn't end up in the same place as her ex-husband.

"I don't know," Lydia replied. "I found him like it this morning. The doctors say they are going to analyse him...but...they don't know...if he'll get better."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle replied, her voice fraught as Jonathan remained silent and Lydia tried not to cry for her daughter's sake. "He can't...he was fine...yesterday...I don't understand..."

"They don't either," Lydia replied, her hand resting on her daughter's arm. "It doesn't make sense. Maybe you shouldn't see him...sweetie...it won't help..."

"Your mother may be right," Jonathan dropped into conversation as he felt Isabelle move closer to him. He was providing her with comfort. "You don't need to go in."

"No," she said with slight determination. "I have to go...I have to do this..."

"He isn't responsive, honey. He's sleeping and muttering. That is all."

"No," Isabelle said and Jonathan wondered if she was as submissive as he had first thought. There was some will power in her. Never mind. He was stronger.

Jonathan stood at the end of the ward with Lydia as Isabelle was led into a secure room by a nurse to see her father. He placed his glasses back onto his eyes as Lydia sighed and took a seat on the mesh blue seat by the swinging doors.

"How long have you known Isabelle?" Lydia wondered as Jonathan took a seat opposite her and he thought for a second.

"Just over six months," he replied and Lydia nodded.

"I take it your relationship wasn't going on whilst she was a student?" Lydia questioned and Crane shook his head at her. She would not approve of that, regardless of how mature her daughter was.

"No," he replied. "We both knew there was something there...but acting on it...wouldn't have been appropriate. She was a student and I was a Professor."

"And even after six months, you still care for her?" Lydia said and then rolled her eyes before he had chance to respond. "Of course you do. You're here with her and she's wearing your jacket."

"I intend to look after her," Crane promised Lydia. "I can assure you of that. Catching a cold didn't seem appropriate, at the moment."

"I can tell...the way you had your arm around her...and spoke to her..." Lydia shrugged once and looked down the hall, her face impassive as she did so. "Isabelle hasn't had the easiest of times...and now this..."

"I'll be there," Jonathan promised her before they both stood up again as the figure rushed down the hallway. Isabelle had pushed her way through the door, allowing it to hit the wall as she slammed it open. She had tears falling from her eyes as her sniffles echoed through the empty corridor. Jonathan stood in front of Lydia as he looked at Isabelle. After a brief moment of awkwardness, she willingly flung her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder.

"He...it was terrible..."

Lydia remained back, unable to even hold Isabelle as she broke down herself at the memory of what she had just seen. Jonathan placed a hand on the small of her back and then one in her hair.

"Sh," he urged her.

"Scarecrow...that's all he said..."

"I know," Jonathan replied, a grin forming on his face as he rested his head on top of her hair and she sobbed against him. "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

"You're going to work?" Isabelle checked with her mother as she stood with her in the entrance. The automatic doors in front of them were constantly sliding open and shut as people walked into the hospital. They ranged from expectant mothers who were joyful to relatives who knew their relatives didn't have much time left. Lydia sighed once, pushing a strand of her daughter's hair behind her ear as Isabelle looked at her mother with wide doe eyes.

"I have to," she simply responded, pulling the bag on her shoulder further up her arm as Isabelle looked slightly disappointed. "The company have some big investments coming up...Bruce Wayne's business...I can't do anything here, Isabelle."

Isabelle sighed for a moment, knowing that her mother was right. She turned her head to the side, looking at Jonathan was sat down near the elevator, his legs crossed as he flicked idly through a magazine, yawning as he did so. Lydia followed her daughter's gaze and a small smile arched onto her lips as Isabelle turned back to her mother.

"What?" she asked, instantly blushing and running a hand through her hair as Lydia shook her head, crossing her legs at the ankles as she did so.

"Nothing," she replied. "I just can't believe how you fell for a guy without me knowing, and a professor, at that."

Isabelle remained silent as Lydia shook her head, still smiling as she did so.

"He's only six years older than me," Isabelle muttered and her mother shook her head quickly, raising her hand in the air to stop her daughter from feeling that she had to make excuses about what had happened.

"Daniel is eight years older than me," she shrugged. "Age doesn't matter to me. The fact he was a Professor when you were a student is something that does, but, it doesn't matter now. He seems a nice, young man."

"He's..." Isabelle trailed off, biting down on her bottom lip as she looked back at Jonathan who was frowning at the magazine and muttering something under his breath. "He's different."

"That's not a bad thing," Lydia promised her daughter. "He seems to care for you and if he waited six months for you to graduate and still wanted you...then...well...he may be a keeper."

"Mom," Isabelle complained with a roll of her eyes. "We've hardly been out...and this...it's all too sudden and..."

"He's sticking by you for this," Lydia snapped gently at her daughter and Isabelle sighed but shrugged once. "He's not a bad young man...I just wish things could be different...meet in different circumstances..."

"Do they know...mom...what's going to happen to dad?"

"I don't know," Lydia answered her. "I don't know what's going to happen...but staying here...it won't help you, sweetie."

"I can't go," Isabelle replied, messing with the cuffs of Jonathan's jacket as she did so and Lydia sighed as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and Isabelle nodded at it. "I'll stay here. You go to work. I'll let you know if anything happens."

"Okay," Lydia said, quickly grabbing her phone from her pocket as she smiled and winked once at her daughter, trying to be encouraging. "Love you."

And then she grabbed her phone, moving out of the hospital as Isabelle watched her for a second and then turned her attention back to Jonathan as she walked back over to him. He dropped the magazine from his hold and back onto the small table by the side of his chair as he looked up and over at Isabelle.

"Has your mother left?" he asked her out of politeness and she nodded. Her eyes glanced back at the elevator and Jonathan followed her. He never missed a trick and he never would. "Do you want to go back and see your father?"

"I can't," she said quickly back to him, an arm moving across her waist and the other extending upwards so that she could bite her nail on her ring finger. "I can't go back up there...it wasn't...it's not him..."

"It is," Jonathan promised her and he stood up, offering her his hand and she looked at him sceptically. "Your father is the man upstairs, Isabelle. I'll come in with you. There is nothing to be scared of."

"You haven't seen him," Isabelle said to him and Jonathan shrugged. If only she knew what he had done. Oh, how she would run for the hills then. And, he wouldn't blame. He would understand if she ran. He was no good for her. She deserved someone who would look after her, treat her with the respect which she needed. But, he could do that. He just couldn't be like that all the time.

"I don't know," Isabelle drawled out, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes. Jonathan placed his hand to her cheek and gave her an encouraging smile.

"You can do it." He pushed her. "I'll be there the whole time."

Jonathan managed to take hold of Isabelle's hand as he led her into the elevator and wrapped his arm around her, holding her tightly to him. Isabelle couldn't be sure if his grip was extremely tight or if she was just numb.

He stood behind her the whole time she looked at her father, talking to him quietly and saying that she was sorry for the whole argument they had had. She pleaded for him to talk to her, for him to understand why she was annoyed with him. She said she was sorry for causing his breakdown.

Jonathan had to grind his teeth together when he heard that. She was sorry. She hadn't done anything. She didn't need to apologise to him. He didn't control her.

Jonathan escorted Isabelle out of the room and they sat on the meshed chairing once again. Isabelle rested her head on Jonathan's shoulder as she drifted to sleep, but, he couldn't do the same. He was tired, too, really tired. His thoughts were too time consuming. He had many things which he had to deal with. And one of them was sleeping in the room down the corridor.

Jonathan slowly moved Isabelle's head from his shoulder and she didn't wake. He sighed once and stood up, moving down the laminate floor to the private room. He was still muttering his name. Francois had been broken. Jonathan sat in the chair which Isabelle had taken and he looked across to the man, his mouth yawning. He pulled his glasses off from his eyes and placed them into his pocket. His hand moved through his hair.

"I don't intend for you to know what I am talking about," Jonathan drawled. "I don't intend for you to wake up and remember this, either. But, you need to know that your daughter...well...she's weak now. She's weaker than normal, I should say. Without you, she has no one to protect her. No one to protect her from me. Her mother believes I'm a nice guy. More fool her. But...I'll look after her. I'll be there for her. No need to worry."

...

A/N: So what do you guys think? Not many reviews recently so is no one bothered? I don't know, so let me know! Thanks if you're taking the time to read this!


	9. Chapter 9

A week had passed and no improvement had been made. Blood tests had been run, samples taken and nothing. They had no miracle cure to what had happened to Professor Francois Dubois. Jonathan knew the cure, of course he did. He would need to be protected against his own fear toxin so it had only seemed prudent that a cure had been thought up.

But, Francois was suffering from a concentrated dose of the toxin. Jonathan believed he only had another few days left. He had stuck by Isabelle the entire time, not daring to let her out of his sight as they sat in the hospital waiting room. He drove her back to her mother's at night and then picked her up again in the morning. The routine seemed to never change, until that morning.

...

A whole month had passed since I lost my father. My twenty first birthday had come and gone in a flash and no fuss was brought up. My mother tried to make it special, cooking me breakfast in the morning and offering to take the day off work so that we could spend time together. I could tell she didn't want to. Work was more important to her at that moment in time. She had moved Daniel in with her, the pair of them becoming extremely cosy.

I did wonder if it was too soon for her to move on, but, she had pointed out to me that her and my father had been divorced.

And then there was Jonathan. It still felt odd calling him by his first name after the amounts of times I had respected him as a Professor. He knew it was my birthday and I hadn't even told him. I was pleasantly shocked when he offered to take me for lunch, saying he was busy that evening with things regarding work. Flowers and a necklace were the gifts which I received. The bouquet was lovely and I had killed it in a week. The necklace was even lovelier, with its locket hanging off the end of the silver chain.

Jonathan was often brash and sometimes obnoxiously rude, but, he cared in his own certain way.

"I applied for a job today," I informed him as I stood next to the window in his apartment and looked onto the Narrows. It still worried me that he was so close to the place where havoc and chaos were part of normal life. Jonathan was stood over in the kitchen, cooking quietly as I remained peering into the darkness.

"You did?" he checked with me, shouting over the noise of the slamming of cupboards. "Where did you apply?"

"You're going to think this is ridiculous," I informed him and he chuckled gently. He often did that. Laugh to himself.

"Trust me," he drawled, "I'm a Psychology Professor. I've read a lot of ridiculous things."

"Wayne Enterprises," I said and the noise in the kitchen stopped. I turned around slowly to see him leant against the worktop, his arms folded and his nose sniffing the air as he arched a brow. I shifted around in discomfort as I played with the locket around my neck.

"Wayne Enterprises?" he checked with me and I nodded in agreement.

"They need a secretary," I shrugged. "It's a start. I can't scrounge off my mother all the time, can I?"

"No," Jonathan replied back to me, his head nodding in agreement but his eyes were vacant. He was thinking. I knew that face.

"What is it?" I exasperated and he arched a brow.

"What is what?"

"You're thinking of something, Jonathan. You've got something to say. Spit it out."

"I just think you can do better than wanting to be a secretary," he shrugged and I looked to the floor. I knew he didn't approve. "They're not the smartest of people and they serve others, is that what you think you're destined to do, Isabelle? Be controlled by everyone else?"

"What are you talking about?" I wondered and Jonathan shrugged, removing his jacket from his arms to reveal his grey sweater.

"Your father walked all over you and now you're going to be walked all over by a company, whose owner isn't even here in Gotham, may I add."

"Seriously?" I checked with him. "You're bringing my father into this?"

"I'm just saying," Jonathan said, slightly defensive. "You could do better than being a brainless secretary who says yes sir and no sir to every question."

Why did he do this? Why did he need to be like this?

"I should go," I snapped at him, picking up my black shoulder bag and flinging it onto the crook of my arm as I moved over to the door, my head high as I ignored Jonathan. But, he seemed to have other ideas.

"Isabelle," he sighed once, grabbing my wrist and stopping me from leaving. He pulled me back to him, his arm snaking around my waist as I did nothing to stop him. I refused to look into his eyes, instead focusing on the kitchen cabinets which I could see behind me. One was chipped.

"Look at me," he said, his voice never pleaded. He never begged me to do anything. But it was soft...it was as if it would be rude not to do what he asked. That was my downfall. His massive blue eyes which stared at me. He wasn't wearing his glasses which helped to extenuate their...well...power. He pulled my bag from my arm and dropped it to the floor.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said back to me. "I just think that you can do better."

"What about if I am content?" I asked him, whispering as his arm pulled me closer to him, his other hand rested on my hip as he continued to stare at me. "I don't want to be like you...Jonathan...I don't...you're so clever and you wanted to be something big. I just want to be happy. I haven't even got the job yet, okay?"

"No," he agreed with me. "You don't."

"Would it kill you to be supportive, Jonathan?" I wondered again, my voice slightly harsh as he blinked quickly and his face scrunched up before he sighed once.

"If this is what you want to do then go ahead," he implored me.

"Thank you," I said. He didn't mean it. He said some things to appease me. He would be brutally truthful and then he would make it up. It was almost like he wound me up and then regretted doing it, which begged the question why he even did it in the first place.

"Dinners nearly ready," he simply said, patting my hip once and then letting me go. That was another thing about him. We'd been dating for a while and he hadn't even kissed me. Yes, I'd had the quick peck on the cheek or the forehead, but that was it. He never once had made any advance, even when it was just us two. It was becoming frustrating.

We ate dinner in a comfortable silence, both of us only looking at each other occasionally and smiling as we did so. Jonathan wasn't a great cook, granted. But he did try. I had offered to cook but he said he could do it. He preferred to stand at the stove and cook with his sleeves rolled up and sweat forming on his brow.

"I've been thinking, too," Jonathan commented as I held the remote to his TV in my hand and flicked through stations. His sofa was far too comfortable to even contemplate moving from as I rested my head against him, reaching across to grab his hand which was resting in his lap.

"What about?" I wondered, dropping the remote and settling on some drama show.

"Leaving the university," he said and I stiffened for a second, wondering where this had come from. "I don't know if teaching is really for me anymore."

"You're an excellent Professor," I assured him and he laughed once.

"You have to say that because all you could do at that college was stare at me," he responded and I turned red against his sweater. "I've been offered another job."

"You didn't say," I said, sitting upright and releasing his hand and he shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. I suppose it wasn't to him.

"I only found out the other day," he said and I sighed once. I told him everything and yet he kept things from me. Nothing seemed that important to share.

"What job is it?"

"A psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum."

I felt my spine shiver as I looked out of his window and then back at him as I bit down on my bottom lip, feeling my head begin to run with ideas.

"That's in the Narrows."

"So it is," he said dully.

"Jonathan...that place...it's..."

"Full of crazies," he confirmed for me and a small smirk reached his face. "Are you worried?"

"Jonathan," I complained again, leaning back and crossing my legs as he moved closer, playing with the hem of the red dress which I wore as I fiddled with its three quarter sleeves, pulling them further down my arm. "I just don't like the idea...well...of you being there..."

"You are worried." He confirmed.

"Where has this come from, anyway?" I wondered, changing the topic. He didn't need me to worry over him.

"I've been thinking for a while. I'd be able to specialise in Pharmacology as well as Psychology, too."

"You'd also be working with some of the world's most psychotic criminals," I deadpanned and he shrugged back at me, slowly moving his hand to my cheek and then down to the side of my jaw, his fingers moulding around my skin.

"It would be interesting," he said. "I need a change."

"I can't stop you."

"No," he said, slightly forcefully, his other hand moving to the other side of my face and curling my blonde hair around on finger as he focused on that. "I know what you think of Gotham and especially the Narrows...which is why I wonder why you haven't left yet...now your father is gone."

"I can't go," I muttered, too focused on trying to keep breathing normally than answering his question. "You wouldn't go with me...and my mother's here...and she seems needier now dad is gone..."

"You're always trying to please other people," Jonathan mumbled, his lips rising slightly as he said it.

"Would you want me to go?" I wondered and he shook his head as he kissed my cheek.

"No," he said. "I don't think I could let you go."

...

Jonathan knew he was going to be fired from his job. He had an idea that some of his students were finding out too much about the little experiments which he ran. He had panicked at first, wondering what he would do if he was fired. And then he had found the job at Arkham. It was perfect. And so, he quit before he could be fired.

Isabelle didn't need to know any of that. She didn't need to know anything. Jonathan had held her gently that evening, his arm around her shoulder as he watched the TV without even paying attention. His thoughts were too diverted. He was looking forward to his new job. He occasionally glanced down at Isabelle and kissed the top of her head. She needed affection every now and then and Jonathan was more than happy to oblige, but, the voice in his head was all too easily wound up.

...

A/N: Thank you so, so much to mahxie, Eva Sirico and Sam0728 for reviewing the last chapter! And to anyone who is following this, cheers! Come on, let me know what you think? Is Crane still in character? The plot will thicken soon so do let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

"How did the interview go?" Jonathan wondered when he saw me on Wednesday evening. I had driven back to my mom's house with the full intention of going to wallow in my bedroom. Self pity was needed after the last hour which I had just had. Interviews had been running all day for a new secretary and a new PA, but, when I looked around and saw some of the girls, I knew I was out of my depth. They were loaded in designer gear, slick outfits and coiffed hair. I had on my best Topshop skirt and blouse and my hair had only just managed to be tamed when I rolled out of bed ten minutes late that morning.

And then I had driven home to find Jonathan's car parked in the drive on the left and I had groaned. I didn't want to admit to him that I had failed in my poor excuse of an interview. He had warned me that Wayne Enterprises may not be for me. Why did he always have to be right about everything?

"I don't want to talk about it," I grumbled, dropping the satchel I owned onto the floor of the hallway as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen. "How did you get in here?"

"Your mom was home but she had to go. She wanted to cook you a special dinner tonight and she invited me. Something came up at work and her and Daniel rushed off," Jonathan explained to me, folding his arms and pushing his glasses further up his nose as I flapped my arms by my side.

"When will she be back?" I wondered.

"She didn't say," Jonathan said; his voice bored as he arched a brow. "So what happened at the interview?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled again, moving past Jonathan and into the kitchen as I searched for the bottle of wine which mother kept hidden in the cupboard above the microwave. Jonathan followed me, slowly settling himself onto a bar stool as he shook his head.

"Alcohol won't help," he promised me and I snorted once. It could try to help. "Isabelle, just tell me what happened."

"Nothing," I responded with a quick shrug. "Nothing happened."

"Sounds like a dull interview," he responded and I glared at him for a moment as he raised both brows to his forehead and shrugged at me. "What? If nothing happened then it is dull!"

"You were right," I simply spoke back to him, pouring the white wine into a wine glass before downing a swig of it. I didn't even like wine whilst Jonathan liked nothing better than knowing he was right, but, he seemed to be saving me the smug grin for this evening. "I'm not cut out for it...everyone else there..."

"Sit down," Jonathan urged me, indicating to the stool next to his and I did as he had asked, settling myself onto the black seat and resting my wine glass on the breakfast bar, my hand still wrapped around it as he reached out and placed his cold hand into mine. "Now, what happened?"

"I turned up...and they told me interviews had been going on all day...I thought maybe I would be alright...two openings...I had a chance. I mean...I got this far in the application...and then I went into the waiting room, Jonathan. And the girls who were there...they'd fit right in with the likes of the Wayne board...they had perfectly combed hair and made up faces as well as clothes from Dolce and Gabbana and then there was me...I couldn't even get out of bed on time to get ready and my hair looks like a birds nest, my clothes are slightly creased from how I sat in the car and my boobs are completely non-existent whilst my legs are just like spindles...how can I compete with that?"

I must have sounded completely crazy to him. I know I sounded crazy to myself and if I saw someone else in this position then I would have laughed at them for being so pathetic. But, it felt really bad. For once, Jonathan didn't seem to have a smart answer to come out of his mouth like he did when I was on so many of my putdowns, instead, his thumb gently moved over my knuckle as I drank some more of my wine.

"You can compete with that," Jonathan assured me, moving to the edge of his stool so that he could take my wine glass away from me and place it down. He grabbed onto my now free hand and looked me in the eye as I hiccupped once. "They don't give out jobs which are based on looks, Isabelle. Yes, that may be true at Wayne Enterprises, but, there are other places where they don't look at your bra size or the length of your legs, which, may I say, are fine. I'm sure half of those girls weren't as attractive as you're thinking because you, Isabelle...you're beautiful, alright? It only matters how the interview went."

I laughed at that and then shuddered. He didn't want to know how the interview went. But...he had called me beautiful. He had never been called me that before. He's often said that I wasn't unattractive but that was different to being called beautiful. He was never that kind.

"What?" he wondered aloud and I looked away from his eyes.

"The interview...well...that didn't go well, either."

"What happened there?" he wondered and I scowled.

"I tripped out of the door and managed to ask if anyone knew if Bruce Wayne was still alive," I replied and Jonathan did chuckle slightly at that.

"It's not funny!" I exclaimed and he composed himself in a second, shaking his head back and forth in agreement.

"No," he said, trying to be serious, "it's not. How did you even manage to ask that?"

"I don't know," I complained, taking my hands from his and resting my forehead against the breakfast bar. "I'm a screw up."

"You're not a screw up," Jonathan promised my gently. "You're just clumsy and sometimes...well...random...but you're not a screw up."

...

Leaving the university was probably the best thing which Jonathan had done. His first day at Arkham had been interesting, to say the least. He would get used to the crazies there. And they would get used to his methods, of course they would.

They didn't really get a say.

"How was it?" Isabelle wondered as soon as Jonathan let her into his apartment. He had returned home from work and managed to pour himself a glass of water before he heard the knock on his apartment door. He opened it up to see Isabelle stood there, slightly damp from the rain outside as she beamed up at him.

"Good," he simply said, a lack of enthusiasm on his voice as he did so and Isabelle's voice dropped.

"You could sound cheerful if it was that good," she informed him and he smirked once, letting her in and taking her coat from her shoulders.

"We can't all have the enthusiasm like some high school cheerleader," he reasoned with her and she shrugged as he drank some more of the water and dropped her coat onto the back of his chair at the desk. "How has your day been?"

"Dull," she complained. "I had to do the grocery shopping as well as look for jobs."

"Wayne Enterprises still haven't rung?" he checked with her and she shook her head, biting her cheek as she did so.

"It's been a week. I don't think they will."

"You never know," Jonathan said, his hand moving onto her shoulder as he walked through to his kitchen. "Why are you so wet, anyway?"

"I had to take the public transport network here," Isabelle complained, following him into the kitchen and running a hand down her wet hair. "Mom's car is broken and she needed mine."

"You didn't have to come if it wasn't..._convenient,_" Jonathan assured her and she shrugged.

"I didn't mind," she promised him and he arched a brow at her, passing her the glass of orange which she always had when she came over to his apartment.

"You should go and change. Sitting in wet clothes shan't help your immune system."

"Yes, Doctor Crane," she saluted him and drank some of the orange whilst Jonathan chuckled at her. "I have no other clothes."

"I'll find you a shirt," Jonathan assured her. "Are you staying the night?"

Isabelle's mouth hung open for a second as Jonathan looked at her in slight confusion.

"What?" he wondered and Isabelle shook her head. "There is a first time for everything, Isabelle. I'm hardly going to let you get the public transport system home at midnight and I don't feel like driving all the way across town. It is practical. You should maybe go for a shower too. It will help you warm up."

...

Isabelle did as the good doctor had ordered her to. She stood in Jonathan's bedroom with a towel wrapped around her as she looked at his decor. His room was simple, cream walls like everywhere else and a spacious double bed which was perfectly made. Not that she expected anything other than that. The white sheets didn't have a crinkle in them and the bedside table next to it contained just one book about Psychology as well as a bedside lamp, similar to the other bedside table. His wardrobes were lined up against the wall, all doors shut and a mirror on one of them. A purple tie hung limply on his wooden bedpost at the end of the bed and a chest of drawers stood with bottles on top of them.

Isabelle dropped the towel to the floor before sliding into the white shirt which Jonathan had leant her. She ran the towel through her hair before walking over to a photo frame on the chest of drawers. She looked down onto it, looking at the man and woman who were stood there as she took in their appearance. The woman had short, black hair and the man long brown hair, much like Jonathan's. Both of them had large blue eyes, but the woman had fair skin along with cheek bones and the man had plump lips. They appeared to be on a beach somewhere, holding each other as they smiled out of the photograph.

"My parents."

Isabelle jumped back as she looked over her shoulder at where Jonathan was stood. His hands were in his pockets as he moved into the room and looked at the floor.

"What happened to them?" Isabelle whispered as Jonathan shook his head, moving closer to her and looking at the photo as she watched him.

"They died when I was little," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "I was five."

"I'm sorry," Isabelle whispered to him out of natural reaction and he smiled weakly at her, picking the frame up and then resting it face down against the wood.

"It was a long time ago," he assured her. "I went to live with my grandmother."

"Where is she now?"

"She died," Jonathan responded. "I was nineteen and in college."

"Don't you have anyone?" Isabelle whispered, folding the towel up in her hands as Jonathan shrugged.

"I have you," he simply responded. "Dinner is ready."

And then he left Isabelle in his room, turning quickly on his heel and marching out to the kitchen. She remained silent for a second before depositing his towels back into the bathroom and following him out to dinner.

...

She had never seen Jonathan in anything other than a suit, but, seeing him in pyjamas was something else. He seemed more relaxed than normal and not as stiff as he stood in the doorway to his bedroom and Isabelle stood near the sofa, wondering what he was doing.

"It seems daft...you sleeping on the sofa when I have a large bed...and we've been...well...together...for a while." He managed to worm his words out as Isabelle crossed her legs at her ankles and waited for him to spit it out.

"You will have to have the left hand side of the bed," he finally spoke, a grin on his face as he did so. "I can't sleep on that side."

Isabelle hastily nodded in agreement before following him into the bedroom, turning the lights out as she did so and then watching as Jonathan rolled the covers back and plumped his pillow up.

"I shall be gone early tomorrow morning," he informed her as she slid into the allocated space and he did the same, looking over at her as he did so. "Do you want me to wake you or leave you?"

"It depends," she taunted him gently as she lay flat on her back and Jonathan propped his head up on his elbow. "Do I get breakfast in bed if you wake me up?"

Jonathan chuckled gently, laying flat on his side as he pulled the covers up to his shoulder and his hand moved across to rest on her hip as she boldly moved closer to him.

"I have cereal and that is the extent of breakfast," he informed her. "I could maybe stretch to toast."

"Whatever you want to do," Isabelle said before yawning and Jonathan kissed her on the cheek.

"Go to sleep," he urged and then rolled onto his back.

...

Jonathan wasn't sure how it happened. He rarely moved when he slept so it must have been Isabelle who had tangled herself against him. Her head was now resting just beneath his chin as her arm draped over his chest and his arm held her around her waist. His clock informed him that it was five in the morning. He had to get up, but, he was torn. He didn't want to leave her. He was comfortable...he was content...and Jonathan was never content. The worst part was that she smelt like him. She had used his shampoo and was currently wearing his shirt. It made Jonathan...well...he felt...light headed when he looked at her.

But he had to move. He slowly untangled her from him, making sure she didn't wake as he headed into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was askew around his face, his eyes drooping and his cheeks paler than normal as he ran cold water against his face.

_She's making you weak._

"Shut up," Jonathan mumbled quickly back to the voice which had popped into his head.

_You need to get rid of her._

"I said, shut up," Jonathan mumbled back, looking at the mirror and blinking quickly. Nothing was wrong.

_She's sleeping in your bed. She's wearing your clothes. You woke up holding her. You're so close to her, yet, you don't know what her greatest fear is._

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled. "I don't want to hurt her."

_Has she gotten to you, Jonathan? Do you love her? _

"No," Jonathan shook his head. "I can't love her."

_It seems that's a lie. She doesn't know anything about you, Jonathan. She knows nothing and you'll never tell her anything, because you want to protect her. You love her._

"She's mine," Jonathan hissed. "I won't let you take her. She's not yours to mess around with. She's mine and only mine."

_Perhaps, for now. But, as time goes on, she will find out. You can't keep secrets forever._

"I can," Jonathan snapped back. "And I will."

...

Isabelle had felt Jonathan move from the bed but she didn't open her eyes. She remained silent, focusing on her breathing as she heard him enter the bathroom through his bedroom door which led onto it. She propped herself onto her side before she heard what sounded like whispering. Slowly, she climbed out of the bed and walked over to the door, stopping as she heard Jonathan's voice. Was he on the phone? She didn't know. She slowly peeked through the crack of the door and saw his head hanging low, his hands against the basin as his eyes pierced the mirror.

"She's mine," he hissed. "I won't let you take her. She's not yours to mess around with. She's mine and only mine."

Isabelle jumped back from the door. Hearing him talk like that...so...possessive and angry and...well...he sounded dangerous. Was he talking about her? Who was he talking to? She remained leant against the wall as she heard the running of water and then she trudged back to the bed, lying down as her thoughts consumed her.

"You're awake," Jonathan said when he walked back out of the bathroom. A towel hung around his waist as he moved over to his wardrobe and Isabelle managed to smile at him. His upper half was skinny, but not as skinny as she had thought. Defined, may be the key word. She had to stop herself from staring at him as he noted the way she was looking and he smirked, his eyes moving to the floor out of slight embarrassment.

"I heard you in the shower." She said, her cheeks turning red as she did so.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's no problem," she promised him. No, by the way she was ogling him, he could see it was no problem.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very. And you?"

"Extremely," he promised her. "I shall change and then I shall make that breakfast I promised you."

"Great," Isabelle managed to say and Jonathan took his clothes back into the bathroom as Isabelle flopped against the cushion, her hand resting onto her forehead. Did she mention this to him? Did she say anything? Was she getting carried away? It was probably nothing. Jonathan had never...well...he was Jonathan...there had to be an explanation for what she had seen. Her mind was getting the better of her. It always did.

...

A/N: Thank you very much to my reviewers! Sam0728 (I've seen the Dark Knight Rises three times and yes for Crane! Needed to be more of him though, I believe!)

Mahxie (Yeah, I always think Jonathan is cold though, it's sad but true and I used your idea about talking out loud! Thought it was brilliant! Hope you don't mind!)

And thank you to Cheekymonkey97 and Teacupful and Chaidiamond for reviewing! Glad you're all liking it, and yes, Bruce Wayne shall be entering very soon...but I have a query...do you want him to play a main part in it or not? I have different ideas but you're reviews will help so let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

I had never asked Jonathan about the morning he had spoken in the mirror. I never felt the need to. I think it was something to do with his new job and nothing to do with me. I didn't know how to admit I was spying on him and he had never told me that anything was wrong. I didn't want to start an argument with him and I knew it was nothing. I was worrying about nothing. It was obvious. He had been the same ever since then. It was a one off strange moment. It meant nothing.

...

"I promise it won't be that bad," I promised Jonathan as we stood in the hallway of my mom's house and he looked at me with narrowed eyes as he fixed the tie around his neck. "Honestly...my mom didn't want a long ceremony or the big white wedding so you'll be spared from any pain."

Jonathan sighed once and nodded in agreement, checking his reflection in the mirror next to the door as I leant against the wall and listened to the shrieks from upstairs. Both of us turned to look up and Jonathan chuckled once.

"I thought weddings were supposed to be the happiest day of people's lives?" he asked me, his eyes looking at me through the mirror and I shrugged gently.

"They are," I replied.

Another month had passed and my mother had dropped a bombshell on me. It was one night whilst we were out for dinner, just the two of us and then she had said what was going to happen. Daniel had proposed and she had accepted. The wedding was going to be in two weeks. I think I had literally spat out the water which I had been drinking. It all seemed so sudden, and then I remembered that it wasn't. Time went quickly and it was clear that the two of them were in love.

"By the sounds of your mother's screams, I would care to debate that with you," Jonathan informed me and I rolled my eyes as I turned around to look at him. He never failed to make me feel warm when he smirked at me and his blue eyes widened in amusement.

"As much as I know you love debates," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of it. "We don't have time for that. Have you turned your phone off?"

"Yes," he said with slight irritation. He hated being bossed around, but, I rarely did it. "Work shan't be bothering me today. Although, I should ask if you have turned your cell off."

"It's been busy at work, Jonathan," I complained as he placed his arms around my waist. "Wayne Enterprises isn't harmonious. The new members don't care about Thomas Wayne and the Enterprise he built...the old members think that is the most important thing."

"Change is inevitable," Jonathan simply said back to me in his usual matter of fact tone. "It happens."

"Yes...well...I'm just grateful I got that job," I said, letting go of him and moving his tie, straightening it slightly as I turned to look up the stairs, wondering when my mother would be gracing us with her presence.

"So...is Bruce Wayne dead or not?" he wondered, winding me up as I remembered that interview. Why had I asked that question? How had I got the job? I didn't know...well...I did. My father's name was well known. Being a Dubois got you places, apparently.

"Shut up," I mumbled and he chuckled, moving his hands into his pockets as we looked up the stairs to where my mother was approaching. Aunt Jean held her bouquet of flowers as mom fanned herself with her hand, her cheeks a deep red as she moved down the steps.

Her dress was an ivory colour and floated down her body, trailing out slightly behind her as she held it up so she could walk without tripping. It was sleeveless and quite low but tasteful and simple. Just like what she had wanted.

"Oh...Is...honey..." she said, seeing Jonathan and I stood there.

"You look really beautiful, mom," I complimented her and she shook it off as Aunty Jean stood beside her, wearing her pink dress which came to her knees and showed off her long legs. She was forty one and looked about thirty. It was crazy.

"She'd look even better if she calmed down," Jean mumbled and mom glared at her.

"Hush, Jean," she demanded. "I can always choose another maid of honour if you're going to insult me."

"I'm being truthful, Lydia," Jean replied, making sure the brown bun on top of her head was in place as she pushed past me and Jonathan to get to the mirror. "You don't want to go walking down the aisle looking a mess, do you? You know what I thought of you when you married-"

"-Your thoughts aren't needed," mom interrupted her, turning slightly annoyed as she looked at me. "Are you sure you don't want to be my maid of honour, Is?"

"I'm fine," I promised her. I had turned down her offer. It wouldn't feel right to me. Yes, I was happy for her and I would be there for her, but, I wanted to remain hidden.

"Jonathan?" she asked him and he smiled once at her and nodded his head dutifully and I laughed at the idea of him following mom up the aisle.

"You don't need anyone, Miss Monroe. You'll outshine everyone in that room," he assured my mother and I gaped up at him as mom kissed his cheek. He really was a suck up when he needed to be.

"Except me," Jean muttered. "You two had best be going. You don't want to be late, that's the bride's prerogative."

"Your aunt's right," mom said. "That did hurt to admit."

"I'll see you later then," I said and kissed mom on the cheek as I took Jonathan's hand and he pulled his keys from his pocket and moved his purple tie as he did so. He never could leave anything which I did.

"She outshines everyone in the room, does she?" I checked with him on the way down the path and he looked down at me and then back up, a grin on his face as he did so.

"Maybe not everyone."

...

The ceremony was nice and quaint. Mom didn't want a church wedding and so she booked a room in a hotel and then booked the room next door for the meal. Daniel was happy, anyone could see that. As mom glided up the aisle he tried not to turn around but failed miserably. The pair of them continued to smile at each other as she practically ran up to him.

They were in love and that was all that mattered. I'd grabbed onto Jonathan's hand through the ceremony, entwining his fingers into mine as he leant across to kiss the top of my head. Afterwards, the meal was nice and quiet. The main people there were mom and Daniel's work friends. Family was something which they didn't seem to have a lot of. Jonathan had been polite and managed to curb his brutal truth attitude, much to my joy.

"What do you think of it?" he asked me as the night time due set in and more people arrived. The tables had been pushed back for the dance floor to be cleared, and it seemed that was a good thing. People were up and moving around as soon as mom and Daniel had done the first dance. Jonathan and I sat at the back of the room on the brides and grooms long table. I was facing the dance floor as Jonathan had his chair angled so his arm could rest across the back of mine and he held onto my hand with his other arm.

"What do I think of what?" I wondered, smiling at my cousin as he found a girl to dance with. It made a change from him asking me and then reminding me that we were third cousins or something like that. It really was too creepy.

"Marriage," Jonathan said as if it was simple. I blinked profusely, wondering how to answer that as I turned around to look at him. His glasses were hidden in his pocket and his blue eyes were piercing, even in the dark of the room.

"Marriage," I said the word and he nodded, pushing me. "I think...well...it's...important, I think."

"You don't sound sure," Jonathan said and I shrugged once, opening the clutch bag which sat on my lap and checking I had my mirror inside it.

"I'm not," I said. "It's just a bit of paper...but...it's what it stands for. Showing someone you love that you're theirs for the rest of time."

"You do know they invented divorce to destroy that concept?" Jonathan pointed out and I glared at him for a second as he chuckled and I hit him around the arm before checking my curly hair was still in place. I still wore my dress from the day, the purple one which was sleeveless and was getting slightly too tight for my body. The heels were doing my head in. I was uncoordinated enough, no need for another six inches. Jonathan had loosened his purple tie and undone his top button, his hair begin to clump together which was why he ran his hand through it quite often.

"I'd like to get married," I told him. "I just wouldn't want the big ceremony."

"What would you want?" he wondered, resting his chin on top of my shoulder as he watched people drunken dance to ABBA.

"Just...my mom and...well...Daniel...now," I said with a shrug. "I'd have no one to walk me down the aisle. What about you?"

"I don't want anyone," he simply replied. "I don't have anyone, anyway."

"What's brought this on?" I asked him and he shrugged awkwardly, kissing my neck as he sat back up straight.

"I just wanted to know...do you think we'll end up married?"

"Jesus, Jonathan!" I blurted out and looked back at him as he arched a brow at me.

"Is the thought of spending the rest of your life with me a problem?" he wondered aloud, his voice turning harsh as he asked me it and I quickly shook my head at him.

"No!" I squeaked out. "I'm twenty one...Jonathan...it isn't something which I have thought about..."

"And I'm twenty seven," he said back to me. "Age is irrelevant."

"You know that I love you, Jonathan," I replied to him and bit down on my bottom lip. "Even if you haven't kissed me yet."

"I haven't seen you for the last three weeks," Jonathan snorted at me. "We've both been busy at work."

"And that's an excuse?" I checked and he rolled his eyes at me. "I mean...come on, Jonathan...we've been going out for ages...yes...the last few weeks have been hard...but...is the thought of kissing me so repulsive because I'm beginning to wonder if it is me or if you-"

But, I couldn't continue with my rant. Jonathan quickly descended downwards, his lips latching onto mine. My eyes remained open as Jonathan closed his and then I thought about what was happening and I shut mine, allowing his lips to engulf my bottom lip as I felt myself lean back in my chair. God...he was...words couldn't describe it. He slowly pulled away, opening his eyes to look at me as they glittered in amusement and I blinked at him.

"I had been waiting for the right moment," he whispered to me.

"You've waited a while."

"Was it worth it?"

"I regret to say that it was," I admitted.

...

Jonathan had left the party early that evening. Something had come up at work and he had no chance of avoiding it. Isabelle had been gutted. He could tell with ease that she was disappointed. But, work was work.

Jonathan had driven to Arkham, his lips still tingling as he did so and he wondered what he was doing. He was managing to keep the voice in his head at bay, telling it that Isabelle was healthy for him. Isabelle kept him sane. She was his and he needed her.

But, Jonathan had to admit that when he reached Arkham, he had no idea what he was about to be getting involved with. But, Mr Falcone certainly knew. He knew everything.

...

A/N: Two updates in a day, guys! I really love writing this and I'm hoping that you're enjoying reading it, too! I intend to try and bring in Bruce Wayne in the next few chapters which should be interesting and in the next one Jonathan and Mr Falcone will have a talk about some certain things! Until then, please do review and let me know what you think!

So...thanks to HI, For Star'rs, Undertaker's Hattress, Cheekymonkey97 and mahxie for reviewing and in response, no, I don't intend for Isabelle to go crazy at all, and I think Bruce shall play a main character, especially now she is working for him and he will eventually find out about Dr Crane!


	12. Chapter 12

"Mr Falcone," Jonathan drawled as he entered his office at Arkham Asylum to see the man sat opposite his plush leather chair. Jonathan pulled his purple tie up, buttoning his top button as he moved into his seat and reached for his glasses, placing them onto his nose as Falcone sat there, looking anything but amused as Jonathan laced his fingers together and rested them onto his desk. "What a nice surprise."

"Yeah, of course it is Crane," Falcone snorted in sarcasm, his hand slicing the air as he leaned forward and looked at the doctor. "I need you to do something for me."

"Do you?" Jonathan wondered; raising a brow as Falcone narrowed his eyes at the young man. He was nothing in comparison to him, but, the way he spoke to him suggested something different. "And why would I do that?"

"You scratch my back and I scratch your back," he hissed quickly. "We're both in business now, aren't we?"

Jonathan chuckled once, removing his glasses and wiping them clean on the handkerchief which stuck out of his pocket and he shook his head once. He was in business with Falcone? The pair of them had a mutual arrangement. Jonathan didn't like to think of it as business. Business was a word associated with people like Bruce Wayne and those who worked at the stock exchange.

"If you want to call it that," Jonathan replied slowly and Falcone nodded in response.

"We're both working together and with...well...we can't mention his name, can we, Doctor Crane?" Falcone grinned and Jonathan nodded in agreement.

"No, we can't," he simply responded. "So what is it that you want from me?"

"I need you to get my boys out of jail," Falcone simply responded, itching the stubble which was forming on his chin as Jonathan's eyes went slightly wide at the demand. "I've been bringing your little toxin in for you and it is time you did something for me."

"Is that so?" Jonathan hissed gently, looking around his office at the certificates which hung on the walls to indicate he was a doctor and a respected one at that. His office wasn't on the large side but it was empty. Paperwork seemed non-existent.

"Don't talk to me like that," Falcone snapped at him. "I'm the boss in this town, Doctor Crane."

"Of course," Jonathan agreed. It was easier to agree with people like Falcone rather than to disagree with them. He thought he was a giant. He knew he was. On the outside world he ran Gotham. He could do whatever he liked and Jonathan wasn't going to stop him. He didn't intend to start an argument which Carmine Falcone was going to finish.

"What makes you think that I have the power to diagnose your henchmen as insane?" Jonathan wondered and Falcone snorted loudly at hearing that.

"You're basically running this place, doc," Falcone shrugged. "Everyone knows it."

"I didn't" Jonathan replied. "I believe it says Arkham Asylum...not Crane Asylum."

"Although, the latter would be more appropriate," Falcone spat out and checked his watch. Time was ticking and if the good doctor didn't do what he wanted then he had an ace up his sleeve. He needed something to make sure his deed was done.

"Perhaps," Jonathan responded. He knew he was practically in charge at Arkham. Before he came the other doctors had no idea. The majority of them had left or remained quiet when Jonathan slowly worked his way up the ranks to be the main doctor. It was how it was. Of course, he had Falcone to thank for that small favour.

"Anyway," Falcone shook his head, not wanting to discuss Crane's power, "you'll do it for me."

"Hm," Jonathan simply responded. "Maybe."

"No," Falcone spat at the young man. "You'll do it. Do you think you can take and not give? Not when it comes to my business."

"As long as it doesn't affect my reputation around here, then I shall do it," Jonathan replied. "Diagnosing thugs who clearly aren't insane as insane can lead people to talk."

"I don't give a monkey about your reputation," Falcone rolled his eyes at the doctor. "And neither should you. If people knew what you were really doing...smuggling things into Arkham through me...you'd be ruined."

"Everyone in this city is corrupt," Jonathan drawled. "The majority of them just hide it."

"Do they?" Falcone taunted Jonathan. "Does that include your little girlfriend?"

Jonathan remained silent, his cheeks paling slightly as he narrowed his eyes at Falcone who was smugly grinning at him, his teeth bared as he looked down at his lap and chuckled. He hadn't expected him to bring her into conversation.

"You didn't think I'd go into business with you and not know your weak spot, did you?" Falcone checked and Jonathan bit down on the inside of his cheek. Isabelle wasn't getting involved in any of this. He wouldn't let it happen. Even the voice in his head was saying that it was absurd. No one controlled him. No one hurt what was his.

"Isabelle Dubois," Falcone droned on, looking to the ceiling as he tried to remember as much information about her as he possibly could. "A Law graduate with a Professor as her father...well...was her father. He died under strange circumstances. Her mother is an accountant who had married a fellow partner at her firm...today...hence why you're sat here in your best suit and purple tie which matched the colour of her lovely dress."

"So, you see, Doctor Crane, I know everything," Falcone admitted. "I find it odd that a man as cold as you has found a girl...and not an unattractive one at that..."

"You'll leave her alone," Jonathan said, his voice low and dangerous as Falcone stood up and looked down at Jonathan. "Do you understand me?"

"No," Falcone hissed. "You don't tell me what to do. I tell you what to do. And, I don't like being spoken to otherwise. No, the trial is on Monday."

"Noted," Jonathan hissed. "But, Isabelle is not a part of this."

"You don't get a say about that, Dr Crane," Falcone said as he moved over to the door. "This is my town."

...

"Jonathan," Isabelle said, slightly shocked that he was stood there at one in the morning. She wore her large concert t-shirt as she opened the door and saw him stood in front of her, his eyes showing concern as he walked past her and into the house. "What are you doing here?"

"I...well...I felt bad for leaving you," Jonathan lied. He had come to make sure Falcone hadn't gotten to her. He didn't want him anywhere near her and Falcone hadn't managed to promise him that. Jonathan reached out and touched her cheek as he kicked the front door shut. "What are you doing up at one in the morning, anyway?"

"Well, mom and Daniel went on honeymoon and they needed someone to take them to the airport for their one o'clock flight. Good job I was up, anyway," Isabelle responded and folded her arms. "You look flustered."

"I'm fine," Jonathan promised her, pulling her into his arms. "I'm fine."

...

A/N: Thank you to AlexShah, reverie-sriptor, For Star'rs, Ins0miniac, Sam0728, Undertaker's Hattress and mahxie for reviewing the last chapter! Getting onto the plot of Batman Begins soon! Let me know what you think! Another chapter later on tonight!


	13. Chapter 13

"It is complete chaos," I complained as soon as Jonathan picked me up from Wayne towers. My car had managed to break down and the garage hadn't fixed it in one week. I don't know what was taking them so long. They said it wasn't a big problem and it wasn't as if my car was old and on its last legs. But, Jonathan had assured me that he could pick me up that night, after telling me that he had been in court and didn't intend on going back to work. Jonathan testifying was becoming quite a regular thing and it worried me slightly.

He was testifying for murderers and thieves, not people who I thought Jonathan should be associating with. I dropped my bag into the footwell and pushed my hand over my head, feeling my hair and checking it was still in a tight ponytail.

"The board are becoming increasingly resilient towards each other. I went down into Applied Science to eat today just to escape the noise of bickering," I complained and Jonathan smirked as he focused on driving.

"I didn't know Wayne Enterprises had an Applied Science division," he simply replied and I nodded in agreement, pulling down the mirror from the top of the car as I checked my appearance.

"They do," I informed him. "It's basically shut down. Only Lucius works there...but...he's really nice and easy to talk to. Anyway, it doesn't matter. It's Friday night. How was court?"

"Dull," Jonathan simply replied with a roll of his eyes as he applied the handbrake at the red light. "The man was clearly insane but the lawyer thought different."

"Well, that's why you're there, isn't it?" I checked with him and he looked across to me, using his middle finger to push his glasses further onto his nose. "Give your expert opinion?"

"Yes," he agreed with me. "It is."

"So...are you working this weekend?" I wondered and he shrugged before setting off again and I sighed, settling back into my seat and placing the mirror back away. He was always being called away to work.

"I don't know," he said in a mutter. "You know I don't control when the crazies try to slit their wrists."

"Jonathan," I complained and he smiled as he laughed once in disbelief, wondering what he had done wrong.

"What?" he wondered aloud. "I was just saying."

"Can you say it a bit...well...not as crude..." I pushed him and he groaned.

"You know what I mean," he snapped. "Anyway, we're going out for dinner tonight."

"Are we?" I asked him. This was news to me. I hadn't been told that I was going out for dinner and he hadn't given me a notion of anything like that. But, then again, he was sometimes spontaneous.

"We are," he simply said back to me. "I've made reservations at the Ivy."

Dinner was lovely, like what was to be expected from a place like the Ivy. It was vast and rather expensive. Ever since Jonathan had become a doctor he seemed to have a lot more money. Money didn't bother me with Jonathan, but, I'd noticed that dinners had become more regular and in more expensive places than the cafe where we had first gone.

My mom was still in Cuba, telling me that three weeks didn't seem enough time for her and Daniel. Apparently, the weather wasn't at its best, but, it didn't matter as they liked being holed up in their room. I begged her to stop after that. I didn't need to know anything about what happened in that honeymoon suite.

"I have a question," Jonathan whispered to me as we sat on the sofa in the living room. I had managed to persuade him to spend the night at my house instead of in his apartment. I'd changed into one of his shirts which I had stolen from his apartment. His tie had been discarded onto the back of the cream sofa and he simply wore his sweater as his jacket rested on the arm.

"Hmm?" I asked him, too comfy to move as his arm remained around my shoulder and held me close to him, his hand wrapping my hair around his finger idly.

"You don't have to say yes," he simply said to me, his voice in my ear and causing me to shiver as I wondered what he was talking about. "I can't force you to, anyway. But...if you said yes...well...I'd be pleased."

"Jonathan," my voice quivered as I sat up, removing his arm from around me as he reached up to stroke my cheek and I looked into his eyes. Was he going to ask me...no...of course he wasn't! We'd been dating...for what...Jesus...it had been ages. But it was still too soon for _that! _

"Just listen to me," he urged me as he moved himself off from the sofa and onto one knee. "I was going to ask you in the restaurant. I had heard that women liked large, romantic gestures, but, I considered it tacky."

Even when he was down on one knee, he had to be truthful about things. I frowned slightly and then smiled gently in disbelief, shaking my head as I did so.

"But, I thought it was logical that I asked you." He shrugged, moving his hand into the pocket of his trousers. "We've been dating for a while and this is the next step."

And who said romance was dead? I bit down on my lip as he pulled out a red box in his hands. He wasn't shaking or showing any signs of nerves. Not that I expected him to. He was a calm and collected man, nothing like those in the rom-coms which I watched who always fluffed up when they asked the girl who they loved to marry them.

"Will you marry me?"

Oh. My. God. He'd asked me. I'd expected it, but, I wasn't sure. I was never sure around Jonathan. I remained silent, my throat drying up as he looked down at the ring which I had barely taken in and then back at me, his blue eyes piercing through the side of me as I gulped loudly.

"Isabelle," he pushed me and I finally managed to look at him. I was supposed to be smiling. I was supposed to be happy.

"It's...it's the next...logical step?" I asked him and he arched a brow in my direction as his face fell slightly and he nodded at me.

"It is," he simply spoke and I felt myself wanting to cry as I turned away from him and sniffed loudly, wiping something which was forming in the corner of my eye. "Isabelle...are you crying?"

"No," I said, sounding pathetic as I did it and I knew I couldn't hide it from him as he moved himself off of his knee and sat beside me on the sofa, his hands wrapping around my arm as he pulled me to face him. "I'm not."

"You're lying to me," Jonathan said, his eyes narrowed at me. "I didn't realise that proposing to you would evoke such a reaction. I thought you were supposed to be happy?"

"Jonathan..." I croaked out, my head drooping as I did so. "You...you said it was the next logical step...you're...you're supposed to ask me because you love me...not because you want to progress to the next stage like I'm some book which you read."

"Isabelle," he whispered, his hand moving to hold my cheek and I shook my head.

"No," I said. "Don't...it's...it's not the right time, Jonathan."

"It is," he challenged me. "Don't you dare say anything otherwise."

"Not, it isn't," I replied harshly. "I don't want to be sad when you propose to me."

"Then compose yourself," he simply responded and I glared at him as he wiped the tears from my eyes and took hold of my hand. "You know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Isabelle. There will never be anyone else. I want to be there for you. I want to look after you. I want to be the one to have you, Isabelle. You know how I feel...I just...I didn't think..."

"No," I said quickly my hands dropping to either side of his neck as I moved closer to him and rested my forehead against his. "I want that...Jonathan...I want you, too."

"Then say yes," he pushed me. "Isabelle...say yes..."

"I..." I garbled.

"Isabelle...say yes," he said again. "If I could take back my proposal then I would do. I didn't think about it. I was nervous. I was scared that you'd say no if I didn't word it logically."

"You didn't need to be scared," I assured him. "It's such a big thing," I said, biting down on my bottom lip as he smiled once at me.

"We'll be in it together, Isabelle." He assured me. "I'll be with you."

And that made the difference. He wanted me to marry him. He'd be with me forever and the prospect of that...well...it seemed heavenly. There was nothing which I wanted more than Jonathan and I realised that. I'd known it for a long time.

"Yes."

...

And that was that. Jonathan seemed to have marriage completely thought out. In another month we were married. My mother hadn't approved at first, thinking I was far too young to get myself involved in something as big as marriage. I'd reminded her that she was twenty one when she married my father to which she replied with 'look how that turned out.' I knew she was looking out for me. I knew she was trying to do the best by me.

She liked Jonathan, she said he was a nice, young man and she knew how we felt about each other. She just thought it was rushed and too soon. I had to remind her that she'd known my dad for three months before they married. She simply bit her lip and nodded in agreement. I loved Jonathan. I wanted to be with him.

If he had his way then we would have skipped town and gone straight to Vegas to get hitched. He didn't want a ceremony or an after party. He'd told me that I was enough. I'd practically forced him to abandon that idea. I wasn't getting married without having my mother there and she wouldn't let me.

The wedding dress wasn't a large gown. Instead, I'd opted for a small dress which looked more like a prom dress. It was October and the days were becoming chilly, which I hadn't thought about when I decided to go sleeveless and assure my mother that a wrap would ruin the dress.

Jonathan had donned a usual suit with a new tie as he stood at the front of the room we had booked with his hands behind his back. Daniel was seated behind him with my mother as I walked down the aisle, holding onto the white roses which Jonathan had bought me. He managed not to turn around as I approached him. Then he only looked when I was stood beside him, smiling as his eyes looked me up and down and I beamed back at him.

This was what it was supposed to feel like. He'd said graduation was supposed to be the first day of the rest of my life. It wasn't. This was.

"You look stunning," Jonathan whispered. We'd gone out for dinner with my mom and Daniel to celebrate and I had managed to persuade him to move onto the dance floor. If we weren't having a do then I wanted a first dance somewhere. Mom and Daniel had remained seated, smiling as they watched me drag Jonathan to the floor. The restaurant was classy, a favourite of mom's with a quartet playing on the main stage.

"I don't dance," Jonathan complained as I placed a hand onto my hip.

"Humour me?" I pleaded with him and he rolled his eyes as he placed his hands onto my waist and I moved closer to him, resting my head onto his shoulder.

"How does it feel to be the new Mrs Crane?" he wondered and I sighed once as his hand moved to the small of my back.

"Brilliant," I promised him. "Jonathan...I've never...I love you, you know that?"

"You wouldn't have married me if you didn't," Jonathan said and I laughed lightly as he kissed the top of my head.

...

Jonathan didn't want a honeymoon and Isabelle didn't really get a say. Things at work were becoming fraught and Jonathan was aware of it. Two men Falcone wanted declared insane had been made just that. Jonathan was becoming tired of testifying. And Rachel Dawes was getting on his last wick.

Falcone had sent his best regards to Jonathan for his marriage. A box of chocolates had been left on his desk and Jonathan had thrown them into the bin. He didn't want anything from that man. He wanted him to leave Isabelle alone and he seemed to be doing just that.

"So, you married the bird, huh?" Falcone checked with Jonathan when he saw him walking out of the courthouse and Jonathan sighed once, checking his watch and increasing his grip on the briefcase. Falcone had pulled up alongside him, his window rolled down as the Gotham Times rested on his lap.

"Isabelle is her name," Jonathan drawled. "I did."

"Pretty serious, then?"

"Marriage does indicate that," Jonathan said, noting the wedding band which sat on his finger. He often sat in his office and stared idly at it, twirling it in his fingers as he smiled at the memory of their wedding.

"Indeed," Falcone responded. "I just wanted to send you my regards."

"No, you didn't," Jonathan shook his head, chuckling as he did so and he looked at Falcone.

"Typical psychiatrist," Falcone muttered "Victor Zsaz. I need him declared insane."

"A new assistant DA is sniffing around," Jonathan warned him and Falcone shrugged. He didn't care.

"I'm the muscle in this town, Dr Crane." He simply snapped. "I'll be seeing you around."

...

Isabelle sat at her desk at work, her hand holding her ring finger as she looked at her engagement ring. It never failed to stun her when she looked at it. The red ruby stood out on the golden band before her eyes trailed down to the golden wedding band.

The board members were inside the meeting room, discussing the future of the company for what seemed like the millionth time. Isabelle twirled idly on her chair, still looking at the ring and losing her thoughts before she heard a cough. She stopped her twirling, grabbing onto the desk to stop her from tumbling to the floor as she looked up to see a tall man stood before her. His eyes were glittering in amusement and his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he nodded down at he hand.

"Newly married?" he wondered and she nodded, leaning back in the plush chair as she did so.

"Two weeks," she simply replied.

"I'd have thought you'd be on a honeymoon then," he simply said back to her and she shrugged. "Or does Wayne Enterprises not allow holidays?"

"Oh, they do," Isabelle nodded. "They just prefer for you not to take them when the company is in turmoil."

"It is in turmoil, is it?" he mumbled and Isabelle shrugged. She probably shouldn't say. "Well, is William Earle here?"

"He's in a meeting about the company going public," Isabelle replied. "He doesn't really do unscheduled visits."

"I think he can make an exception for me, Miss...?" he trailed off, waiting for Isabelle to give her name.

"Miss Dubois," she said and then shook her head, looking at her desk. "No! I'm not...Mrs Crane...I'm married..."

"As we have established," the man said, his eyes shimmering as he sat down in the plush seats in the waiting room and Isabelle turned to look at him as he crossed his legs. "I read about a Crane in the paper this morning."

"Did you?" Isabelle wondered idly. "My husband is a doctor. Jonathan Crane."

"The very one," he replied with a nod. "He's testified at numerous court hearings."

"He does that quite often," Isabelle mumbled simply. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"That's because I didn't give it, Mrs Crane." He smirked at her and she waited for him to continue. "My name is Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

...

A/N: There we have it folks! And so the plot begins! There had been a time when I thought no one was going to stick by this but it looks like I am wrong! Thank you to reverie-sriptor, Cheekymonkey97, Undertaker's Hattress, mahxie, Donnerstag, kaflute14 and ins0minac for reviewing!

To answer a question posed - yes, I intend to keep this story up for a while. The constant updates are done because I love writing it and I think I will get through Batman Begins and into the Dark Knight where Crane appears...and then the Dark Knight Rises...well...I may do a chapter where Isabelle is brought before a certain Judge...but there is a long way until that!

Anyway, thanks for reading and do review!


	14. Chapter 14

"You would not believe who walked into the office today!" Isabelle shrieked as soon as she entered the apartment later on in the evening. She quickly removed her red coat and placed it onto the leather sofa, depositing her black bag on top of it as she looked at Jonathan's back. He was sat at his desk, his hand holding his head as his other one held his pen.

"Bruce Wayne," he drawled back to her and Isabelle's face fell as she kicked her shoes off and walked over to Jonathan. "It's been on the news."

"I see," Isabelle responded, wrapping her arms around his chest as she leant behind him and he sighed once, looking to the side as she rested her head onto his shoulder. "You look..."

"Fed up?" Jonathan wondered as Isabelle's eyes scanned down at the paperwork which he was completing. "Tired?"

"Yes," Isabelle responded simply. "What's wrong?"

"Work," he simply said, his voice gruff as he pulled at his tie and Isabelle kissed his neck gently as he leant back in his seat, his hands holding onto hers.

"You should take a break," she urged him. "Jonathan...you work too hard...all of this testifying in court...well...it can't be good for you."

"It needs to be done," he said lowly back to her. If only she knew what he had gotten himself into. "But, it doesn't matter."

"And why is that?" Isabelle wondered as he stood up and turned around in her hold, his own arms wrapping around her waist as he cradled her closely to him.

"I've booked us a honeymoon. We're going away this weekend," he drawled. Isabelle's eyes enlarged as she watched him and he noted her face. She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to be happy when he had proposed and she was supposed to be enthralled now. "What's the matter?"

"I have work...Jonathan..." she muttered and Jonathan removed his glasses as well as his arms from around her waist and he looked away, his jaw set in a stubborn manner as Isabelle shook her head hastily. She didn't want to disappoint him. He needed a break and so did she. They both needed just to spend time with each other. "But...it doesn't matter..."

That seemed to please him. Jonathan smiled back at her, his hand running through his hair as he nodded once.

"Where are we going?" Isabelle wondered, moving into the kitchen and pulling out a wine glass whilst Jonathan picked his notebook up and flicked through it, checking his notes were all up to date. He'd removed his sweater and stood there in just his loose tie and shirt which was tucked into his black trousers.

"I've booked us a room in a hotel in New York," Jonathan simply responded, seeming more interested in his notes as he leant against the worktop in the kitchen and frowned at what he had read. He rolled his eyes and took his pen, scribbling the writing away. Isabelle downed her wine and managed to smile for him. "It's away from Gotham. That is the main thing."

Jonathan needed to get away from the city. He needed to leave. He had been to see Falcone about a certain Rachel Dawes, telling him of the problem which she was causing him. She had insisted that he had been corrupt. Of course, she was right, but, she didn't need to know that. Jonathan needed to get rid of her. She was becoming unavoidable.

A honeymoon was the perfect excuse to skip town.

...

I hated flying. I mean really hated it. It was the thing which scared me the most. The thought of being thirty thousand feet in the air was not something which appealed to me. I'd cried the last time I had been to Disneyland with mom and dad. They had to give me a brown bag to breathe into.

So, it was no surprise that I was a nervous wreck. Jonathan had checked us both in and gained the ticket which we needed before we moved to the waiting room. He'd taken a seat, folding his legs whilst I remained stood up, looking out the large glass windows as planes moved up and down the runway.

"You can sit down," Jonathan stated and I did as he had said, taking a seat beside him and leaning forward, my teeth biting down onto my bottom lip.

"What's wrong?" Jonathan wondered, his hand moving onto the small of my back as he moved it up and down the material of the black blazer which I was wearing. "You've turned awfully pale and look sick."

"It's nothing," I muttered back, still looking as a plane hurled down the runway and finally left the concrete.

"You're scared of flying," Jonathan deadpanned with me and I looked into his eyes as he sighed and shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you," I complained and he rolled his eyes.

"I had always wondered what you feared," Jonathan mumbled. "Flying is perfectly safe."

"I should maybe get a drink," I responded, ignoring his previous comment. Flying is perfectly safe? I'm in a tin can in the middle of the sky. How is that safe? "It might calm my nerves."

"No," Jonathan said, grabbing my hand before I could move off for the bar in the corner. "You drink like a fish already."

"I have one glass of wine when I come back from work," I deadpanned.

"If you keep drinking then you'll become dependent and it won't tackle your fear of flights," Jonathan informed me. I knew he would go into psychiatrist mode. Even though he was sat there in just his white shirt and black trousers, he still thought he was back in the office.

"You do know that my driving to the airport is more dangerous than stepping onto this plane, don't you?" Jonathan checked with me and I remained silent, looking into his blue eyes as he spoke. "You could board a plane every day and it would take twenty six thousand years for you to die...statistically speaking, of course."

"What if this is the flight?" I worried and Jonathan shook his head quickly.

"No," he replied simply. "You need to distract yourself."

"How?" I worried. "How can I distract myself?"

"Let me," Jonathan said back to me and he curled his finger under my chin before pressing his lips against mine softly. That was working. That was working really well. He pushed his other hand onto my cheek before allowing it to move through my hair and his lips moved against my bottom lip, the pressure varying as I felt myself redden and move closer to him.

"How was that?" he wondered, his voice slightly full of cockiness as he pulled away and smirked at me.

"You're...well...extremely distracting..." I murmured as I noted his eyes shimmer with smugness.

"Well," he mumbled into my ear, "we can't keep that up for the entire flight. They'll have us kicked off."

"Much to my dismay," I mumbled and he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer to him, his lips pressing into my hair.

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself," he whispered down to me. "I'll help you."

...

The honeymoon was everything which I had wanted and possibly more. The hotel was lovely, the city was always alive. But none of it seemed to matter. Nothing existed except for Jonathan and I. We holed up in our room, preferring the company of each other in comparison to the thousands who walked by us. Jonathan had insisted on taking me out for a meal and to see a show on the Saturday night before we flew back on the Sunday afternoon.

And that was when reality returned.

"Your mom has left you a voicemail," Jonathan informed me as I stood in the bedroom, unpacking our clothes from the holdall we had taken as he sauntered into the room and finally turned his mobile on. We had both left our phones at home, not wanting any distractions for the weekend.

"She'll probably be wondering if we got home," I responded. "She knows what I think of flying."

"It wasn't that bad though, was it?" he checked with me, engrossed on his phone.

"Not with you," I mumbled and he chuckled before he pressed his phone to his ear and I focused on the unpacking and deciding what needed washing. He listened to the voicemail in silence before he sighed once, tutting as he did so and then moving to his side of the wardrobe.

"What's up?" I enquired, seeing him place on his usual tie and sweater before checking his watch.

"Carmine Falcone has been caught whilst we've been away," Jonathan said and I gasped audibly. I didn't think that was possible at all. The mob would be in complete disarray. Did that mean the end of it? Of course not...there were others who were corrupt. "They found him in his cell with slit wrists. He'll be looking for the insanity plea."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," I snapped out at Jonathan, indicating to the door. "They don't need you to go out this late at night and tell them he's not insane! We all know it is a lie, Jonathan. He knows what he's doing."

"Still," Jonathan muttered, "it is better to be safe rather than sorry."

"It's a waste of time," I snorted.

"Enough, Isabelle," Jonathan hissed at me, his eyes glaring into mine and I looked at him, shyly folding up a shirt which he hadn't worn. "It is my job. I don't moan at you when you need to go and fetch lattes at seven in the morning, do I?"

I pursed my lips and didn't say anything to him. He grabbed his briefcase before he looked at me.

"Don't wait up. I will be back later."

...

Jonathan wasn't having Falcone tell him what he wanted. He wanted to be in on the plan with the toxin and Jonathan knew the man he was working for would not agree to that. He certainly didn't.

"I've been sat here for ages," Falcone complained. "The walls started closing in on Saturday morning but you only just got here...what kept you?"

"I had more interesting business to attend to," Jonathan said, remembering the weekend which he had just endured. His time with Isabelle had been what he had needed. She had made the perfect distraction for him and he was grateful to her for that.

"Oh yeah!" Falcone snapped out. "You and your little girl were going on honeymoon, weren't you? I bet that was fun...little Miss Dubois looks like she has quite the stamina...I don't know what I'm talking about! Miss Dubois? It's Mrs Crane now, isn't it?"

"It is," Jonathan said, remaining calm. "She's mine now. And her stamina – as you say – is just for me to know."

"That can be debated if you don't do as I want," Falcone snapped out. "If they take a look at what you're doing then they would see that the dear Doctor Crane isn't all too innocent. And...well...your little wife may be in trouble, too."

"I don't think so," Jonathan said, removing his glasses as he leant forward and looked pleadingly at Falcone. "Would you like to see my mask?"

...

"Jonathan!" I gasped his name the following night when he walked back into the apartment at eleven o'clock. I flung my arms around him and held him tightly as he froze, his spine seeming to stiffen under my touch. "Where have you been? You smell like...fire..."

I sniffed the air as he pulled away from me, his face calm and collected as he arched a brow in my direction.

"I thought you would be asleep," he informed me, his hands moving into his pockets as he let go of me and wandered about the apartment, seeming slightly bewildered.

"No," I said. "I've been waiting for you to come home, Jonathan. You weren't answering your phone!"

"I've been at work" he said. "A patient decided to experiment with fire."

"Jesus!" I yelled out, moving back over to him and taking his cheeks between my hands as I looked at him, absorbing his blue eyes which were still showing no sign of emotion. "Are you alright? How did that happen?"

"I'm fine," he said, wrapping his hands around my upper arms and kissing my cheek as he did so. "I'm fine. Nothing happened to me. They were suffering from schizophrenia. It was an unstable patient."

"How can I not worry about you?" I asked him, shaking my head as I felt my knees begin to buckle. I'd spent the last three hours wondering whether or not if I should call the police. Or should I go to look for him myself? I didn't know what to do.

"I can take care of myself, Isabelle."

"No...you're my husband...I love you...if anything had happened..." I felt myself turn hysterical. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he brought his hand to my hair and made me rest my forehead against his shoulder. He always thought I overreacted to a lot of things. But, I wasn't. I needed him to see how scared I was. I needed him to see how much I cared about him.

"Calm down," he urged me, his lips falling onto the top of my head. "You need to calm down."

...

"How can I help, Mr Earle?" I asked the boss as he stood by my desk the next day, a letter in his hand along with a cheque as I smiled up at him.

"Mr Wayne hasn't been here for the morning," he informed me. "He wanted these cheques signing for the Wayne Foundation. He wants to help charities with his shares."

He seemed to sneer at this fact as I looked up at him, my eyes narrowed slightly. At least he wasn't intending to keep his entire profits.

"That's nice of him," I simply replied and Earle shrugged, not seeming bothered as he dropped the papers onto my desk.

"Well he isn't that fussed. He hasn't been in this morning to sign them and they need signing so the bank can cash them in," Earle explained to me. "Take the afternoon off and go to Wayne Manor to make sure it is done."

"Me?" I squeaked out slightly and he arched his brow in my direction.

"Is there a problem?" he wondered and I shook my head. "Good. Go now."

...

"Holy crap," I muttered as I pulled onto the driveway of Wayne Manor. I stepped out the car, shutting the door and pulling my coat tighter around me as I tried not to stumble in the gravel due to my heels as I looked up to the Manor. I'd seen pictures of it in the papers, but, the real thing was much more. It was incredible. I rang the doorbell as I folded my arms and made sure my bag was held firmly onto my shoulder.

"Can I help you, Miss?" a voice wondered as the door opened to reveal a man with white hair and a piercing stare. A smile was on his face as he looked at me and I nodded at him, bouncing around on the balls of my feet to keep myself warm.

"I need to see Mr Wayne," I told him. "It's about a cheque which needs signing for his Foundation."

"Master Wayne is currently ill, Miss," he said back to me and I remained quiet. "Is it urgent?"

"Mr Earle seems to think so," I told him and his face fell when he heard that name but he nodded once, allowing me into the grand hallway of the Manor. I looked around, taking in the surroundings which astonished me. It was beautiful.

"Mrs Crane."

I turned around as I heard my name called out and I saw Bruce stood on the stairs, a dressing gown covering his body along with his pyjamas. His hair was out of place as he brushed his hands through it and rushed down the staircase.

"Mr Wayne," I said politely. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

"It's not a problem," he shook it off before looking at the man who had let me in. "Can I have a moment, Alfred?" he enquired as the man bowed slightly and then moved down the hallway.

"My butler," Bruce explained to me and I felt my mouth hang open. He had a butler? "He looked after me when my parents died." And then my mouth shut.

"He said you've been ill?" I checked and he looked away from me before nodding once.

"Something unfavourable got into my blood stream," he mumbled. "I take it that this isn't a social call?"

"Considering I'm supposed to be at work, no, it's not," I assured him, moving into my bag and producing a cheque along with a pen. "Mr Earle said these cheques need signing for the Foundation to be set up."

"I see," Bruce said; taking the pen and scrawling his name onto the paper before passing it back to me. "And Mr Earle couldn't wait for one more day?"

"Apparently not," I said, my arms dropping by my side as he smirked and handed me the cheque back. "Thanks."

"They tell me you and your husband went away for the weekend," Bruce said as I dropped the cheque back into my bag and made sure it wasn't crushed by anything as I nodded and smiled gently at the memory.

"We did," I confirmed. "He took me to New York"

"You sound as if you wish you were back there," he observed and I shrugged.

"I don't have a favourable relationship with Gotham..." I admitted. "There's nothing here but bad memories."

"So why are you here?"

"Jonathan won't go and I won't go without him," I shrugged. "Although...after last night I wish he would reconsider."

"What happened?" he wondered.

"A patient tried to set fire to himself. Jonathan came back stinking of the stuff." I complained. "Anyway, you don't need to know about that. You must have better things to do with your time then listen to my ramblings."

"Not really," he admitted. I wasn't sure if he was humouring or mocking me. "You must really love him."

"I...Jonathan means a lot to me...I can't explain it. He's everything." I rambled and then an awkward silence came between us before I coughed once. He didn't want to know about Jonathan and me! He was Bruce Wayne! He could find himself a million girls who were willing to throw themselves at him!

"I'd best go," I said, motioning to the door. "I need to send this cheque off...and then go home..."

"I suppose so," Bruce replied, moving to the door and holding it open for me. "Thanks for bringing the cheque around."

"No problem," I promised him and waved awkwardly as I walked down his steps. "I'll see you later, Mr Wayne."

...

Bruce stood in the cave, the remote in his hands as he folded his arms and looked at the TV which showed the picture of Jonathan Crane. He was the man he had encountered last night. He was the man who had induced him with his toxin. He was the one who had set him on fire.

And then he had gone home to his wife and lied to her about his whereabouts.

"She was a very pretty thing, Master Wayne," Alfred informed Bruce as he stood beside him at the TV screen and looked up at it as Bruce shook his head. Alfred was always trying.

"Did you not notice how I greeted her as Mrs Crane?" Bruce wondered, throwing his butler a glance as Alfred looked at the screen as Isabelle's photo appeared from her driving licence.

"I did," Alfred spoke. "I'm also noticing how you have a picture of her and her husband on the screen."

"Doctor Crane is the man who set fire to me, Alfred," Bruce explained, folding his arms as he glared at the man. "I remember that much."

"And you didn't think to tell his wife of this information, sir?" Alfred asked; his voice dry and sarcastic whilst Bruce rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking to the floor for a moment as he sniffed.

"She's not in danger," Bruce said with confidence.

"And how do you know that?"

"He's been married to her for a while. If he wanted to hurt then he would have done. She loves him and she wouldn't have listened to me, anyway. Who would she believe; me or her husband?"

"Do you not think it is only right that she knows?" Alfred enquired. "She's married to him."

"She'll find out," Bruce assured Alfred. "But not from my mouth."

"Then whose, sir?"

"Batman."

...

A/N: Thank you to Sam0728, Undertaker's Hattress, Bluebell, Mahxie, kaflute for reviewing! Glad you're liking it! Picking up a bit now, so please let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

Jonathan knew he had a two day head start before Miss Dawes came sniffing around. Falcone had failed to get rid of her and the problem which she was causing him was unprecedented. Her accusations of him being corrupt were travelling around Arkham – much to his dismay. People still did nothing, though. They let him carry on with his job and his experiments.

But, he knew somewhere deep down that would stop. It would stop when he came to town. And, Jonathan knew that wasn't far away. He had insisted that Falcone be placed into two days of solitary confinement, saying that he was presented as a danger to himself and to others. Miss Dawes had been down to Arkham, standing in the hallways with her coat draped over her arm and her bag held tightly against her side as she demanded to see him.

Jonathan had told her it was not possible. She would see him in two days when he said so. Until then, he continued working on the toxin, making sure it was all ready to be dispatched. The thought enthralled him terribly.

And then there was the simple matter of his wife. His, loving, devoted Isabelle. The woman who would never say no to him or boo to a goose. When all of this came out then she would see. She would see how powerful he was. But, he wouldn't let her be intoxicated with the toxin. No, he'd give her the antidote and make sure she was safe. He didn't want to lose her deliciously, naive mind, did he?

Once he had finished his work at Arkham, he took the ride back to their apartment in silence, his mind wondering onto the panic which would soon be endured throughout Gotham. Gotham would soon be held to ransom and Crane would have held a major part in it. Well, that was what he thought, anyway.

He parked his car on the side of the road before climbing out, his briefcase drooping by his side as he yawned, his glasses falling slightly as he did so. The apartment was clouded in darkness as he made his way up into it. He didn't need the light. He knew what he was doing as he dropped his case and shrugged out of his jacket. His ears pricked up as he heard a soft mumble come from the bedroom. The door was open and the only light available was from the curtain which was pushed open slightly, revealing a street light.

"No...I'm sorry...daddy...I didn't know..." he heard his wife sob. Jonathan remained stood in the doorway, fiddling with his tie as he tried to remove it and he watched her roll about in the bed, her hand thumping down onto his cushion as her blonde hair stuck to her face. He had never heard her sleep talk before. And, it was clear she wasn't having a pleasant dream as she sobbed.

It seemed that his wife feared a great number of things.

Jonathan moved over to the bed dropping his tie on the bedpost before gently lowering himself to squat down, his hands resting on the side of the bed. Isabelle lay on her back, her chest rising and falling quickly before she muttered the word he never wanted to hear come out of her lips.

"Scarecrow."

Jonathan hastily moved his hand onto her arm, squeezing it as his cheeks paled and his eyes showed fear for a second. Isabelle would have nothing to do with the Scarecrow. He refused to let that happen. He refused to let his own wife fear the Scarecrow.

"Isabelle," he said; his voice stern and controlling as he shook her. "Wake up. Isabelle, open your eyes."

It didn't take long until as she did as she was asked. Her tired and bewildered state didn't help her as she peered around the darkness, her breaths coming out in short and deep pants whilst Jonathan looked at her, his hand moving to her cheek as he did so.

"You're safe," he promised her. "Isabelle...you're safe...it's me...it was just a dream..."

"Oh...God...Jonathan...you're here," she responded, sitting up as Jonathan stood and then shrugged out of his sweater and shoes as he moved to his side of the bed and lay on top of the covers. It took less than a minute for her to move into his hold. It was the only place she could feel safe.

"I'm here," he simply replied, feeling her tears against his neck as she draped an arm across his skinny waist and he held her back, his thumb reassuringly stroking her back, trying to get her to calm down.

"I'll always be here."

...

Sneaking into apartments was easy compared to what he had done before. Defeating the whole mob was something which he had found rather...well...enjoyable. If he could help to clean up Gotham then he would feel complete with his work. But, there was someone who he needed to see.

As he stood on the Fire Escape stairs, he took in the view of the city. The Narrows were visible across the bridges and Wayne Tower was also easy to see. They lived in the middle. He made his move, opening the fire escape and then moving down the hall to the correct apartment before he allowed himself in. It really was all too easy. He didn't switch the lights on, instead he remained silent, looking around and listening with intent.

He'd been told Jonathan Crane was the type of man who rarely left the office. So, he deduced, he would have to see Isabelle at night. He didn't expect what he saw.

The soft murmurs were definitely a man's. That should have told him enough. That should have told him that Jonathan Crane was home as no other male lived in the apartment, unless, she was cheating on him, which seemed unlikely considering how devoted to him she was.

"I'll never leave you, Isabelle," the murmurs became clearer as he moved closer to the door, lurking behind it before he dared to peek. No one could see him. It was dark and he was wearing black. He was safe.

"You're my wife...Isabelle...you've failed no one...you're a beautiful, young woman...he wouldn't be ashamed of you...he'd have learned to understand what we have...he'd know that you love me and there is nothing which can stop that...it's too late now...it doesn't matter...you're safe...Isabelle...I have you."

He stood back, listening as the woman calmed down in her husband's hold and he soothed her, his hand running down her blonde curls as his other hand held her close to him. He could barely believe what he was seeing. Was this the same man who had set an entire building on fire and tried to kill him? Was this the same man who had that fear toxin? It didn't look like it as he comforted his wife.

He couldn't talk to her about it now. But, he knew he had to. He knew it was Jonathan Crane who was going to help cause havoc over Gotham.

...

Jonathan awoke early, seeing Isabelle still sleeping peacefully as he sighed to himself and ran his hands down his cheeks. He would call her in sick today. She needed the day off. And he didn't intend to work late. He wanted to be home early and spend time with her, especially because they may not have much of that left when _he _got to town. And when Miss Dawes declared her own evaluation of Falcone.

"I'm late!" he heard a sudden voice yell as he sat at the small table in his kitchen with his cereal in front of him. He held his spoon halfway to his mouth as he watched her rush out. Her hair was like a bird's nest and his shirt on her was completely askew.

"I've told them you're not going in today," Jonathan said to his wife who looked back at him with wide eyes.

"Why?" she wondered and Jonathan finished off his cereal before standing up and moving over to the sink, depositing it there.

"You had a traumatic nightmare, Isabelle," he said, his voice stern as he did so. "You would have had that because you've been stressed and overworked. One day off won't kill you."

"Why don't you take your own advice, then?" she wondered from him as he at her with his stubborn gaze.

"Do as I say and not as I do," he simply spoke, kissing her on the cheek before picking his briefcase up. "I won't be back late. I was thinking we could have dinner together tonight, that would make a nice change, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," Isabelle agreed. "It would."

"So, I shall see you later."

...

Isabelle didn't know what to do with her new found freedom for the day. Having not to go to work was certainly different. She managed to shower, changing into her jeans and blouse before she quickly blew dry her hair. Cleaning the apartment was something which she could start. She sighed to herself, moving into the living area and picking up some magazines which she had as she looked at the books Jonathan kept lying around.

And that was when she noticed him.

"Holy crap!" she exclaimed, dropping the papers from her hold as he remained still, stood by her husband's desk as he looked at her.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he assured her, his voice gravelly and low as she strained to hear him and she gulped, folding her arms as he looked at her through his mask. "I need to talk to you."

"Me?" she checked. "You must have the wrong apartment...and aren't bats nocturnal?"

"Not today," he simply responded. "Your husband. He's Jonathan Crane, is he not?"

"Yes," Isabelle replied, looking at the Batman as he stood opposite her. This could not be happening. It wasn't possible. What did he want with her? What did he want with Jonathan?

"He's up to something big at the Asylum where he works," the Batman replied. He needed to get to the point. He needed to be in and out of the apartment as quickly as possible for he had other matters to attend to. He knew Rachel was intending on going down to the Asylum and he needed to help her. He needed to make sure she was safe.

"What?" Isabelle replied, shaking her head as she did so and bending down to pick up the magazines. "You're wrong. Jonathan is just a psychiatrist who specialises in pharmacology. That's all he does."

"He's created a fear toxin," Batman hissed at her, folding his arms as she looked at him, her eyes wide and she shook her head, but he continued. "He's been working with the mob. He's been working with Falcone. His fear toxin is sprayed and then whoever it reaches sees their greatest fear."

"No," Isabelle snapped at him, placing the magazines into a pile on the coffee table. "You're lying to me. Jonathan would never do anything like that. He's a good man. Whatever this fear toxin is...you've got it wrong...it all sounds ridiculous!"

"It may do," Batman assured her, moving closer to her as she remained looking at him. "But, it isn't a lie. Your husband is a dangerous man. You need to leave him before anything serious can happen."

"You expect me to believe this?" Isabelle yelled. "You expect me to believe some...man who dresses up as a Bat...instead of the man I love and married?"

"Yes," he replied as if it was simple. "I'll let you ask your husband about this yourself."

"He'll think it is as crazy as I do," Isabelle assured him and he shrugged. "Jonathan wouldn't lie to me. He wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone else."

"You care for him deeply," Batman said and Isabelle had slight déjà vu. "You must really love him."

"I do," she whispered. "Who are you?" she blurted out and she noted his lips pull up into a slight smirk as he walked past her, his gloved hand resting on her shoulder as he did so.

"I don't expect you to believe me over your husband." Batman promised her. "I know I haven't explained this well. I don't know much more, but, I intend to find out. I had to warn you to make sure you could stay safe against him."

"He wouldn't hurt me," Isabelle whispered. "All of this is preposterous. You must have gotten it wrong."

"No," Batman said quickly, opening the window to the apartment. "I haven't."

"Who are you?" Isabelle responded and he turned to look at her as he stood on the ledge and his eyes looked into hers.

"You know." He simply told her before he jumped down from the apartment. Isabelle rushed over to the window, looking out of it as he swooped in the air and landed on another building. She shut the glass pane and leant against the wall as she thought long and hard.

He'd said something similar to her in the mansion..._You must really love him..._

He'd said the exact same words. But, it couldn't be. It wasn't possible that a billionaire, orphan playboy was running around Gotham pretending to be the Batman. It was ridiculous.

...

A/N: Thank you to mahxie, Kaflute14, Cheekymonkey97, ins0mniac, Sam0728, Summer and reverie-scriptor for reviewing! More to come tonight so stay tuned! Dr Crane has a lot of explaining to do, I'm sensing!


	16. Chapter 16

Isabelle didn't know what to do. She was in a daze about everything which had happened. She willed for time to go by slowly, but, before she knew it, Jonathan was walking back into the apartment, his hair hanging in his eyes as he scowled to himself.

She remained sat on the sofa, her legs folded beneath her and her teeth chewing on her fingertips. Batman had been in her apartment. She failed to believe that. She also failed to believe that it was Bruce Wayne who was the Batman. None of it made sense. Jonathan wouldn't hurt anyone. He would never do anything to hurt anyone. But...the Batman...he did research...he wouldn't have told her without evidence. No, it wasn't right.

"You look lost in thought," Jonathan commented, dropping his briefcase by the door as he pushed his hair from his eyes and looked at his wife. She remained silent, staring at the blank TV instead of at her husband. Jonathan knew something was wrong instantly. Isabelle never failed to give him attention when he walked in. She was always there, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him quickly as she asked about his day.

"I am," she simply responded, managing to look away and at her husband as he remained stood up, his hands sliding into his pockets as he arched a brow in her direction.

"What has happened?" Jonathan asked her, dropping to the sofa beside her, his hand moving to rest on top of hers as she froze. She winced at the contact which he was giving her. She never did that. She always craved for him to be close. "Isabelle, tell me what has happened."

"I'm being ridiculous," she blurted out, her head shaking to and fro as her blonde curls moved in front of her face. "It's nothing...Jonathan, I'm being silly."

"Let me be the judge of that," Jonathan demanded from her. "I don't like things being kept from me, Isabelle. You're my wife."

"It was the Batman," she simply told him and Jonathan tried to remain composed. He couldn't falter. If she noted the worry behind his eyes then she would be all over him like a rash. He couldn't have her doubting him. "He came to the apartment...Jonathan..."

"Why on earth would he be here?" Jonathan asked, slowly moving his body around hers as she shifted herself to the end of the sofa against the arm and he brought his hand to her cheek. "Isabelle...why was he here?"

"You don't know?" she wondered, her voice low and timid. Jonathan remained looking at her, wondering what to say to her.

"If I knew then I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" Jonathan replied to her and she stopped looking at him, her eyes turning away before he grabbed onto her chin, forcing her to look back at him. "Look at me, Isabelle," he demanded from her. "Why would he be here?"

"He came to warn me about you, Jonathan," Isabelle spat out, trying to remove his hand from her chin as he brought his face close to hers, his breath tickling her cheek as she remained silent.

"What about me?" Jonathan pushed her.

"He said that you...he said you're making a toxin...at Arkham..." Isabelle snapped out. "It is something which shows people their greatest fears."

Jonathan backed away from his wife, his hand releasing her chin as he leant back in the seat and pushed his hands through his hair. Isabelle remained watching him, wondering what he was going to say to her.

"He told you this, did he?" Jonathan checked; a grin on his face as he did so. Clearly, the Batman had found out about Jonathan and his wife. Isabelle remained mute, feeling her blood return to her face as she watched Jonathan with intent.

"Yes," she whispered and Jonathan looked back at her, his eyes narrowed and she recoiled at the simple stare he was giving her.

"And do you believe him?" he wondered and Isabelle shook her head with haste, her orbs pleadingly looking at him.

"No!" she snapped. "Jonathan...how could you think that?"

"You never mentioned that you defended me," Jonathan informed her, standing up as she remained seated. How did he make her feel so small? "You never told me that you didn't believe it."

"Don't be absurd!" Isabelle snapped back at him, managing to stand up as she glared at him. "You're my husband!"

"So, did you say it was rubbish?" Jonathan checked with her and she nodded.

"Yes," she promised him. "I know you, Jonathan...you'd never do anything like that...I told him that he was wrong..."

"So why were you sat here and wondering?" Jonathan asked, wrapping his hand around her arm as he dragged her body closer to his. "Why were you sat here looking contemplative? Why did you hesitate to tell me about what had happened?"

"Jonathan," Isabelle whimpered, feeling him gripping onto her skin tightly as his eyes burned into hers. "You're hurting me."

"Well, that's how I felt, Isabelle," Jonathan hissed. "To know that my own wife believes some nutcase who dresses up as a Bat over me. Hurt."

"I never said that!" Isabelle spat at him and he grabbed onto her other arm, shaking her as he did so.

"You thought it, Isabelle!" he roared. "You were thinking 'what if he's right?'"

"No!" she denied. She was lying to him. She was lying to her own husband. She felt terrible. He was looking at her, his face downtrodden and hurt as she shook. "I didn't...Jonathan...I just...I wanted to know it was a lie..."

"You're my wife, Isabelle," Jonathan drawled, his voice low as he bent down to her height, one hand moving from her arm and then wrapping under her chin. "You're my wife and I expect you to believe me, do you understand?"

"I did," Isabelle muttered. "I do believe you."

"You didn't know what to think when I walked in, did you?" Jonathan whispered in her face. "You've been sat thinking for the last few hours. That's the worst part, Isabelle. You wondered if he was right."

"No..." Isabelle begged with her husband as Jonathan tried not to smirk at her. He'd manipulated her to be the guilty one in all of this. How he loved to do that. "Jonathan...I'm sorry...oh God...I should never have doubted you..."

"So you did doubt me?" Jonathan checked and Isabelle tore herself from him, dropping her hands into her head and she began to sob to herself. He remained stood back for a second, watching as she finally looked back up at him, her lashes wet and her eyes red.

"I...I wondered if it was true...but I knew it couldn't be...Jonathan...I just needed you to tell me..."

"Well, it is not true," Jonathan replied to her, his voice low and putting on hurt.

"I'm sorry," Isabelle said to him. "I'm so sorry, Jonathan."

"I know," Jonathan told her, opening his arms and allowing her to move into them as she launched herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his waist as he kissed the top of her head. "I know."

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed again. "Jonathan...I'm sorry."

...

"Do you forgive me?" Isabelle asked her husband as soon as they had ate dinner together and he looked at her, his knife and fork being placed together on the white plate as Isabelle held onto her wine glass.

"I can't be mad at you, Isabelle," Jonathan whispered to her and she sighed once in slight relief. "I was hurt."

"I know," she admitted. "But...it's over...why don't you take a few days off and I will do the same? We can go away?" she suggested and he shook his head at her.

"I'm needed at work," he replied before his phone began to ring. Isabelle sighed, pushing her hair behind her back as she stood up and took the plates away. Jonathan pulled his phone out and pressed it to his ear, listening as he was being told that Miss Dawes was back at Arkham, demanding to see Falcone.

"I need to go," Jonathan informed his wife as she washed up. She turned her head back to look at him and he grabbed his briefcase and jacket. "I've been summoned over Falcone's issue."

"Oh," Isabelle responded. "When will you be back?"

"Don't wait up," Jonathan said, his voice curt as he moved to the door and Isabelle moved her hands from the bowl.

"Wait," she pleaded with Jonathan. She didn't want him leaving her under these circumstances. The fraught and tense atmosphere was something which she hated. It was rare between her and Jonathan. "I'm sorry."

"So you've said," Jonathan replied, checking his watch.

"No," Isabelle replied. "I don't want us to fight."

"We're not," Jonathan said, his hand pushing his glasses back onto his nose top.

"You know what I mean," Isabelle whispered as Jonathan quickly strode over to her and rested his hand onto her arm before kissing her deeply. He watched as she shut her eyes and he dominated her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up beneath him.

"I'll see you when I come back," he said softly to her, stroking her cheek and managing to make her smile.

"I love you, Jonathan," Isabelle assured him as he walked to the door.

"I know."

...

Isabelle had no idea what time Jonathan would come home, but, she wasn't going to sleep until he came back. She couldn't sleep until he came back. But, that was until the phone call came through.

She jumped back as she stopped watching 'America's Next Top Model' and turned the TV off, reaching for the phone before leaning back on the sofa.

"Hello," she said.

"Mrs Crane?" a voice checked and Isabelle sat on the edge of her sofa, leaning forwards as he hair fell into her face.

"Speaking," she clarified.

"This is Detective Gordon." Oh No. Why was the police calling her? What had happened? Had something happened to Jonathan?

"Is it Jonathan?" she whispered and a sigh came from the other end of the phone as Isabelle's stomach churned and she stood up, pacing up and down the room, focusing on breathing as she did so. "Has something happened to him?"

"You could say that," Gordon muttered. "I need you to come down to Arkham Asylum."

"What's happened to him?" Isabelle snapped. "What has happened to Jonathan?"

"He's...it would be best if you just came down here," Gordon promised her and Isabelle shook her head.

"Is he hurt?" she worried. "What's going on?"

"Mrs Crane-"

"-Just tell me!" Isabelle exclaimed.

"He's been induced with some form of toxin. He's in a bad way," Gordon said, deciding not to tell her that her husband was a criminal. That was a conversation for face to face. "He keeps muttering about a Scarecrow..."

Isabelle dropped the phone as soon as she heard that word and she leant against the wall, unable to hold her own weight as Gordon continued to speak down the phone to her but she wasn't picking up. She fell to the floor, her hands in balls at her side as she tried to hold back the tears which wanted to flow.

She couldn't believe anything about it. Her husband would not have done anything...not Jonathan...

She needed to go and see him.

She needed to get to him.

...

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! This is a bit later out than I had planned and I'm slightly tired so sorry if it isn't that good! And, why Batman revealed himself to Isabelle shall be explained! But, please do review and I shall have the next chapter out tomorrow sometime!


	17. Chapter 17

Isabelle drove down to Arkham, breaking all of the speed limits possible in the town. Traffic was quiet and the radio was playing out the local socialite news about Bruce Wayne having his thirtieth birthday party. Her ears listened to that bit, but, she then tuned out as she realised she had bigger things to worry about. Had the Batman been right? Was her husband the man she thought he was?

Once she pulled into the car park, she took up two spots, noting her husband's car in the parking lot. She abandoned her car, switching the engine off and then climbing from the silver machine, her hands running through her blonde hair as she sparingly dealt with the elastic bobble on her wrist, moving it through her locks and pulling them from her face.

"I'm here to see Jonathan Crane," she said as soon as she reached the main entrance to the Asylum. Just looking up at it gave her the chills. She had been so focused on the goings on, she barely noted the multiple police cars which were pulled up alongside the building, cordoning the area off.

The officer stood before the entrance looked her up and down, wondering who she was and what she wanted with the psychotic doctor they had apprehended.

"And you are?"

"His wife," she snapped at him, the chill in the air getting to her as she looked into the main doors of the Asylum, wondering where Jonathan was. The officer blinked profusely as he looked at her, unable to believe what she had told him.

"You're married to him?" he checked and she gritted her teeth, her annoyance showing through as she nodded in agreement. "Unlucky."

"What are you talking about?" Isabelle snapped. "Where is he?"

"Office Roberts!" a man suddenly yelled as he pushed the door open to the Asylum and held it there. Isabelle took in his appearance, all the way from his long, trench coat to his moustache and his eyes which held concern and annoyance as he looked at the officer. "Mrs Crane is allowed in here. Thank you."

The officer nodded, moving aside for Isabelle to continue her way into the Asylum.

"Mrs Crane, I'm Detective Gordon," he greeted and offered her his hand. She took it, showing him the same politeness which he had shown her as she looked around the hallway to Arkham. A large reception desk stood at one end, but, everything was cream. The place smelled clinical and every noise echoed through the tiled floor. It gave Isabelle the chills just looking around.

"Where's Jonathan?" she asked him, her voice small as he looked at her, his eyes sizing her up and wondering if she knew anything. But, from the look of naivety and hope, it was safe to say that she knew nothing about her husband.

"Your husband has been restrained," he told her and she nodded once. He saw she wanted to cry. He saw how she was beginning to shake in her left hand as her right one held it, trying to stop the movements. The woman had come out so quickly that she had forgotten her jacket. She stood before him in simple flats, her tight fitting jeans and a sheer blouse.

"Why?" she wondered and he drew in a deep breath before messing around with his glasses.

"He's been found making some form of toxin underneath the Asylum. He's been helping to distribute it into the main water supply and it's been getting into Gotham." He informed her and Isabelle shook her head. Gordon reached over, his hand resting on her arm as she failed to believe anything which he was saying to her. Her Jonathan would never have done anything like that.

"The Batman apprehended him and sprayed him with his own toxin. Ever since then he's been in some kind of...well...state...muttering about a Scarecrow," Gordon informed her and she finally noted what he was holding in his hand. Her eyes grew large as she looked at the brown burlap mask which he was holding and she shivered involuntary.

"He was wearing this. It's a mask which helps him against his own toxin. It stops him from being injected but it scares whoever is looking at him," Gordon explained and Isabelle moved her eyes away from it. Her father...he'd muttered...no...

"I need to see him," Isabelle demanded, sounding braver than she felt as Gordon looked at her, wondering if that was a good idea as she nodded forcefully in his direction.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked and she nodded.

"I need to know," she simply whispered and Gordon sighed, but shrugged. He placed his hand onto her back, leading her down the corridors until they came to a room where two guards were stood. Gordon nodded at both of them as they opened the steel door, the noise moving through Isabelle's body as she feared the sight which she was about to see.

But, she heard him first, his soft murmurs saying the same thing over and over again, the word turning like a knife in Isabelle's stomach. She stepped into the room as Gordon stood in the corner, looking on the scene as a noise escaped Isabelle's lips. She wasn't sure if she had made that noise but she knew it was her when she placed her hand over her mouth and felt her eyes water.

Her Jonathan was sat there...restrained to a chair...wearing a straight jacket like his patients. His eyes darted across the room as he heard the noise. His mind was still working. He still knew what he was seeing. It was just taking over him.

Gone was his smart suit which she loved him in, the black tie and the sweater vest. His glasses had been removed and his hair was messier than normal. He looked nothing like the man she had fallen in love with.

"Jonathan," she managed to whisper his name and his eyes found hers. And then he smirked. Isabelle didn't know whether to run or break down on the spot. He was smirking at her.

"My Isabelle," he drawled, still looking at her as she remained stood up. "How wonderful of you to join us on this occasion."

"It's not true...Jonathan..." she pleaded with him and he looked at her, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as she remained watching him. "You didn't do this."

"You see," Jonathan drawled, "that's what I love about you, Isabelle. You're so naive. You're willing to believe anything which I tell you. He doesn't like that about you, do you? No...he thinks you're too weak for me...but...he likes keeping you around."

"What are you talking about?" Isabelle wondered, her voice a soft whisper as Jonathan chuckled. "Jonathan, you're scaring me."

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, not sounding sorry in the least. "I don't mean to scare you. I never wanted to scare you. You're my wife."

"What's Scarecrow?" Gordon suddenly asked and Jonathan's eyes darted to him before looking back at his wife. "We need to know, Crane."

"Me," Jonathan simply spoke. "It's me."

Gordon nodded once at that. He needed to know the answer. Isabelle folded her arms around herself, trying to keep herself warm as Jonathan noted her gesture. She didn't want to ask him. She didn't know if she could ask him.

"My father," she simply spoke and Jonathan looked at her, the smirk which he had was removed and replaced with his usual thin lips of no emotion. Isabelle continued to look at him, her eyes going wide as he did nothing.

"Jonathan," she whispered his name, moving closer to him and bending down, her hand resting on his cheek as he closed his eyes, his lips parting at the contact which she had given him. He looked at her, wanting to do nothing more than move his own hand and place it onto her cheek, run it all along her neck. Even now, she still didn't believe he could have done this. Even now, she still thought the best of him.

"You didn't...Jonathan...tell me...tell me you didn't..."

"He was ruining you, Isabelle," Jonathan declared and the contact which he had craved was removed. She stood tall again, backing away from the man in the chair as if he could hurt her and she shook her head, turning around, unable to look at him. "He would never have let us be together...Isabelle...I saw how he manipulated you...made you upset...he couldn't have you...I had to have you..."

"He was my father!" Isabelle roared, turning back to look at Jonathan as Gordon remained silent, his hand holding onto his chin as he watched Isabelle begin to cry. And then he looked back at Crane. The sadistic maniac whom he had been interviewing had seemed to have disappeared from his face. No, this looked like a man. A pained one, but a man, nonetheless.

"You killed him...you murdered my own father...how could you?"

"Quite easily," Jonathan deadpanned with her and she glared at him, her eyes beginning to feel sore as he tried to shift around in his chair, becoming numb. "I had to, Isabelle. He kept telling me that I needed to. He said it was the only way."

"I don't...you're not well, Jonathan," Isabelle replied and then thought back to that day when she had seen him in the bathroom. "That day...the first night I stayed over...Jonathan...you were talking..."

It took a moment for Jonathan to remember what she was talking about. The first night she had stayed with him. The first night she had been to his apartment and worn his shirt. The first night he had allowed anyone else to sleep in his bed. The first night he had held her to him, realising he was content. And then he had struck. The voice in his head.

"Didn't I always tell you that talking to yourself was the first sign of madness?" Jonathan checked with her, unable to resist the smirk which was forming on his face.

"You're sick," Isabelle informed him and he managed to slightly shrug at her. "The man I married wouldn't do this."

"You got two for the price of one, sweetie," Jonathan said quickly back to her as Gordon checked his watch. He didn't have much more time. "And I intend to honour our vows until the end of time."

"And as you so told me," Isabelle whispered, "divorce was created to ignore that rule."

Jonathan glared at her and he shook his head. She was trying to be strong, but, he could see past that. He could see that she wanted to run out and cry. He could see how she wanted to do nothing other than be held by him. She wanted to forget about this day.

"I'm not sure you'll be getting out of here. Even at the end of time," Gordon informed Crane, fidgeting in the corner as he knew he needed to get out of the Asylum. He needed to be in the Narrows, trying to stop what Crane had started.

"I won't let you leave me, Isabelle," Jonathan assured her.

"You murdered my father, Jonathan!" she yelled at him, feeling adrenaline coursing through her veins as she began to shake, unable to think of what he had done. "And now you've gone...and injected your toxin...into the main water supply..."

"It's too late," he assured her. "It's all in the past."

"We need to go," Gordon said, whispering to Isabelle as she looked at her husband and he nodded in agreement, twitching as he did so.

"I'll be back, Isabelle," he promised her. "You still love me."

"I do," she whispered after a moment of silence, "but did you ever love me?"

Gordon placed his hand onto her shoulder, firmly but gently steering her to the doorway where the officers stood. And even then, even when she was being led out, he said nothing. He didn't tell her that he loved her. He never told her. She didn't know if she wanted to hear it. She didn't know if it would make a difference to her now. But...deep down...she wanted the man she loved to admit that he loved her...but it had all been a sham.

...

Jonathan knew his wife would never have made it off the Narrows. He knew that the bridges were being raised and everyone was trapped. He also knew he was being unstrapped from his chair, the feeling of freedom moving through his bones as his mask was thrown back at him.

The only thing left to do was find his precious Isabelle.

...

A/N: There we go. It is all out in the open. The next chapter should be interesting; it will take place in the Narrows where chaos is being released. And then there will be more after that! So, thank you to reverie-scriptor, Alexandra Valerious, mahxie, Eva Sirico, Bluebell, TheOneWithTooManyInterests, BaDWolF89 and Undertaker's Hattress for reviewing the last chapter!  
Next one out tonight!


	18. Chapter 18

"What do you mean the bridges have been raised?" Gordon snapped as he looked at the leader of the small SWAT team who stood in front of the raised bridge. The man shrugged once, chewing the gum in his mouth as Isabelle stood behind Gordon, listening to what was happening and she failed to believe it.

"Detective, the bridges aren't going to be lowered for anyone. The breakout at Arkham is too much for anyone to comprehend. If they got onto the main island then we'd be in trouble. We need to contain the problem here." The officer informed Jim who ran a hand down his hair and shook his head, sniffing once as he pointed to the main island and then looked over to Arkham.

"We need more men!" he yelled. "If they've escaped Arkham then the situation is graver than we have thought!"

"Most of the men are here," the office replied as a buzz came in from his radio and Jim looked at Isabelle, realising he wasn't getting anything else from the officer. He hit his fist against the lamppost before a voice called out his name.

"Detective!" she shouted out and he looked over to where a young woman ran, holding something in her hand as she stood in front of Gordon.

"What are you doing here, Miss Dawes?" he asked her, his voice fraught and full of worry as she shook her head and handed him the device which she was carrying.

"I was sent to give this to you," she hissed at him. "The Batman said you may need it."

Gordon looked down at it and wondered what she was talking about.

"It's the antidote against the toxin," she whispered, leaning closer to his ear and he nodded. The sudden noise of gunfire rang out in between the buildings and everyone instinctively ducked down as Jim looked at the two women.

"I need to go and see what is happening," he declared, pulling his gun out of the holder which it had sat in as he pointed at the bridge.

"Stay by there and don't move," he insisted and then rushed off into the dead of the night.

Isabelle looked at Rachel who nodded at her, trying to smile and be encouraging as mist suddenly seemed to come around them.

"Come on," Rachel spoke lowly, hearing the ringing of more gunfire as Isabelle wondered where her husband was. A mass breakout in Arkham, the officer had said. That would include her Jonathan. He'd be in the streets somewhere.

"It is quite the mess, huh?" Rachel declared, kneeling down by the bridge as Isabelle did the same, her eyes darting around, looking at the officers who slowly disappearing into the Narrows. "Dr Crane certainly knows how to cause panic."

Isabelle looked at her as she spoke his name and Rachel took in the way the younger woman was staring at her. Her eyes were large, covered over by a glaze as she arched a brow in her direction and Isabelle took her gaze away from the woman's, shaking her head as she did so.

But, she did notice the way she moved her hand down to the rings on her finger and began to mess with them, turning them around as she continued to look into the Narrows. And then she looked back up at her. She'd been in Crane's office a few times. She'd noted the only picture which sat on his desk. The picture of a woman who was stood on the steps to an apartment, a small white dress covering her frame as she turned her head to the side and smiled.

She had asked Jonathan about her. He had answered curtly, informing her that it was his wife before he took the picture from her hands.

"You're his wife," Rachel suddenly said and Isabelle looked back at her. "You're married to him."

Isabelle had nothing to say back to that as she felt Rachel judging her. She knew what she was thinking. She was wondering if she had a part to play in all of this. She was wondering if she knew her husband was a sadistic, mentally ill man.

"The smoke...it's moving closer," Isabelle suddenly spoke out and Rachel nodded in agreement.

"You...you didn't take any of the antidote..." Rachel began to panic slightly as Isabelle shifted her weight to a more comfortable position.

Before Isabelle could reply, the shouts of a little boy were heard from near them and Rachel instinctively stood up and moved over to him, helping him and assuring him that she would find his parents with him. Isabelle took a deep breath, preparing to go over to them, but, it was too late. A group of officers advanced over to them and before she knew it, they were back in the Narrows.

Isabelle began to panic, looking around as the smoke finally moved into her system and she shook her head, looking around as she heard the shouts and screams of people. This couldn't be happening.

She moved away, trying to get clear of the horrific noises as she found herself backing down a small alleyway, constantly turning to make sure no one was following her or could attack. Her breathing deepened as she poked her head around the corner, her brow began to sweat as she heard the yells of a woman and she remained where she was, resting against the brick wall, her palms flat against the material of it as she closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.

"And what do we have here?" a sudden voice asked and Isabelle's orbs opened. She moved down the wall, but, it was no use. The man grabbed onto her elbow and she looked at his face which was clouded. An orange jumpsuit covered his body as he flung her back against the wall, his hand travelling down to her chin as the gun pressed against her throat.

"I think you should be quiet as I do this," he drawled, his mouth enclosing around her ear and Isabelle sobbed once. The feel of his mouth on her skin made her sick, her whole body convulsed as she felt bile rise in her throat. Jonathan had achieved what he wanted. His fear toxin was working. She felt his hand grope at the bottom of her blouse as she wormed around under his touch, her sobs audible but not being listened to.

"Sh," he urged her. "It is just you and me."

"No!" Isabelle snapped out as he reached for the pants to his suit.

"That's my wife."

And then she felt something stir deep inside of her. Hearing his protective voice was all that she needed at that moment in time. The weight from the man was dragged from her as she looked up to see a large horse. But, it didn't look like a horse. Its eyes were red and full of fire as it looked down on her. The man on top of it wore a brown mask, covering his face and showing the same red eyes as the horse. Isabelle slid down the wall, becoming more scared as she buried her head into her hands. It wasn't real. None of this was real.

The man in the jumpsuit was knocked unconscious as Jonathan hit him around the head with the metal piping he had found lurking around and he looked at his wife, unable to believe what he had almost just witnessed. What would have happened if he turned up later?

He moved from the horse, his footsteps loud as he moved closer to his wife and bent down to her height, moving her hands from her eyes and forcing her to look at him as she let out a hollowing scream of panic and Jonathan froze as she fought against him.

"It's me," he simply spoke. "I said I'd come back for you, Isabelle."

"No!" she yelled at him, the mask making her squirm as he chuckled loudly.

"The toxin shall wear off soon and then you'll be better, Isabelle," he promised her, roughly grabbing her and hauling her to her feet. She fought against him, the mask which he wore scaring her to death as she began to cry loudly.

"No...you're not him...you're not..."

"You'll find that I am," he assured her, bringing her body flush against his as his bare hand stroked her cheek and she trembled under his touch. "I'm the man you married, Isabelle."

"No," she replied hastily, coughing as she tried to breathe and swallow at the same time. "You're not him."

"Don't make me hurt you, Isabelle," he snapped at her, violently shaking her body as he looked at the horse which was making a noise. "I've kept my self-control with you."

"Unlike my father?" she snapped at him as he rolled his eyes under the mask.

"He deserved it," he promised her, shoving her towards the horse and pushing her upwards. She fought against him, her hands scratching again his arms, but they were covered in the grey jacket which he wore as he pushed her back, trying to restrain her hands as they flew wildly at him and she screeched in pain.

"No!" she roared. "I'm not...going with you..."

"Says who?" Jonathan chuckled.

"Me."

Jonathan quickly turned around to see the large figure stood before him, his eyes glaring at the mask and Jonathan chuckled again, releasing Isabelle as he looked at the Batman before him. He held his fist in one hand and his jaw was set in a stubborn manner as he looked at Jonathan who was grinning.

"You have no authority here," he assured the Batman. "This is my territory. "

"I don't think so," Batman replied, lunging for Jonathan who ducked under from his movement and Batman pushed Isabelle behind him as Jonathan moved over to his horse. He knew he stood no chance against the Batman and he would find Isabelle again. She couldn't hide forever.

Batman watched as Crane raced away and he looked at Isabelle who was staring at him. She didn't seem scared or worried as she looked at his face and Batman seemed thankful for that as he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her down another alleyway, knocking a man unconscious as he did so.

"You need to hide here," he drawled at her. "I'll come back for you."

"No," she panicked. "I can't stay alone...I can't..." she worried as the Batman wondered what to do with her. He slowly bent down to her and she looked at him.

"Do you trust me?" he wondered.

"Yes." She nodded and he grabbed her waist, pulling her back against his chest as he placed his hand over her mouth and she struggled against him, wondering what the hell he was doing as she felt air leave her body and she slowly drifted off into sleep.

...

Isabelle slowly peeled her eyelids open and she looked around where she was. She was resting on something comfortable, she knew that much. It took a moment for her to become accustomed to where she was as she sat up in her bed. She didn't remember passing out there. Maybe it had all been a dream. She was in bed. She had been asleep. It had to have been a dream. She quickly turned her head to look to the side where Jonathan should be, but it was vacant.

"How are you feeling?"

She looked over to the corner of her room, wondering who was with her as she reached for the light switch to illuminate the room. She had to blink quickly to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her as Bruce Wayne stood in the corner of her room, his body covered in black armour and a mask held in his hands as he looked at her.

"What happened?" she wondered and Bruce remained quiet for a second as Isabelle allowed the memories to rush back into her head and she pressed a cool hand against her cheek, feeling herself begin to cry as she remembered.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said to her, noting how she buried herself back into the bed, her hands moving under her pillow as her face pressed into the white cushion. "He's still out there...the police...they want to talk to you. Your mother is on the way back from California." Bruce explained to her.

What had he expected when he came back to her apartment? Had he expected her to thank him for saving her life from one of the sadistic men he had ever met? Had he expected her to fall at his feet and praise him?

He didn't know what he had expected, but, what he was seeing seemed the most logical step as Isabelle sniffed loudly, her whole body shaking under the covers as Bruce sighed once.

He thought she may have questions regarding him being the Batman, but, he knew she had just lost the one man who meant everything to her. Her love for Jonathan Crane was something Bruce had never witnessed before in anyone. It was like a piece of her had been ripped out.

"I'll have the police stay outside your apartment in case he comes back. Gordon only wants to talk to you when you're up to it," Bruce informed her and she managed to look up at him. "Is there anything you need?"

"Yes," she whispered simply. "But...he's gone..."

Bruce nodded once, sliding the mask back onto his head as he looked pityingly at her and she watched as he stalked out of her room and she lay back onto the bed, her tears falling onto Jonathan's pillow as she wished for it all to be a dream.

...

Her sorrow soon turned to anger as she stood in the living room and looked at everything in the apartment. Everything reminded her of Jonathan. Before she knew it, she was throwing things around, smashing vases and destroying all the papers on his desk as she moved into the kitchen and picked his mug up, throwing it into the sink, cutting herself as she did so. Her roars of anger died down as she looked at her hands and the smashed furniture. Her blooded hands moved through her blonde hair as she sunk to the floor in the kitchen and felt her body shut down again.

...

Lydia opened the door to her daughter's apartment, using the spare key which she had been given and she looked around, fearing the worst as she saw the mess which had been made. He hadn't gotten to her, had he? No...the apartment was being protected. Lydia dropped the key into her pocket before she moved through the apartment, watching herself on the broken shards of glass and everything else before she heard a strangled noise from the kitchen. She moved into it, noting her daughter on the floor, her arms around her knees as she sobbed.

"Isabelle," Lydia sighed, rushing over to her and falling to her knees beside her, her arm moving around her shoulders as she looked at her blooded, cut hands and the blood in her hair. It was evident she had caused this mess.

"Sh, honey, try to calm down," Lydia offered her daughter some words of meek advice as Isabelle pushed herself closer to her mother.

"He lied to me," she sobbed, spitting and blubbering as she did so. "He lied to me, mom...he...dad...Jonathan...he's not...he lied..."

"I know," Lydia replied, kissing the top of her head as she did so.

"What have I done?" Isabelle worried. "What did I marry?"

Lydia didn't have a response to that. The only thing she could do was be a mother and hold her child as tight as she could.

...

A/N: By no means is the end! I do believe Dr Crane is about to make another appearance in either the next chapter or the one after! Mr Wayne shall also be back...and then...I have The Dark Knight Rises and Crane is in that and I can't wait to write that one!

Thank you to mahxie, BaDWolF89, Undertaker's Hattress and Zeny for reviewing the previous chapter!

Let me know what you think! Hope you're all enjoying!


	19. Chapter 19

"If I knew what he did, do you think I would have married him?" Isabelle snapped as Jim Gordon sat next to her, his mouth asking questions out of routine as the young woman sat back on the sofa, her legs crossed and her hand itched the back of her neck as Jim sighed once, sniffing and then messing with his glasses as he looked at Isabelle.

"No..." he replied. "No...I suppose not..."

"I didn't know anything," Isabelle defended herself. "Jonathan was the man who I married, not the Scarecrow." She assured him and he sighed once, realising that Jonathan's wife was a dead end. He hadn't told her anything and she wasn't involved in any of his crazy plots.

"He's still out there," Gordon said to her, pushing his notebook and pen back into his coat pocket as he stood up in the apartment and looked into the kitchen for a second where Lydia was making dinner. The apartment seemed sparse as Gordon looked through it and Isabelle remained looking at a certain desk which sat in the corner.

"You'll have police protection around the clock," he assured her and Isabelle shook her head, managing to tear her eyes away from the wood and back onto Gordon.

"There's no need," she said to him. "I'm not staying in Gotham."

"What?" but it wasn't Gordon who spoke. Lydia rushed from the kitchen, a tea towel in her hands as she dried her fingers and glared at her daughter who sighed once in response. "What do you mean you're not staying in Gotham?" she snapped and Gordon straightened out the suit which he was wearing as he motioned to the door.

"I think I should go. If there's anything you need then don't hesitate to call," he informed Isabelle and she nodded once at him as he let himself out of the apartment and Isabelle stood up, pacing the length of the back of the sofa as Lydia's eyes remained fixed on her.

"You're leaving?" she snapped at her daughter. "Where are you going to go?"

"Anywhere," Isabelle informed her. "I'm not staying here, mom."

"I understand that," Lydia hastily agreed. "You can move back in with me and Daniel."

"No," Isabelle replied, her voice stern. "I have to leave the city. There's nothing in Gotham, mom."

"You have a job-"

"-Because of dad," Isabelle interrupted. "They only hired me because of my name. Gotham is the place where I spent three years of my life being miserable because I had to study a subject which I hated...it's the place where I thought I met the man...the man who I still love, mom, no matter how hard I try to hate him. He...I thought he was perfect...and he murdered my father...and he tried to ruin Gotham...there's nothing, mom."

Lydia remained silent, watching as her daughter gave her speech and she thought she was going to cry once again. That was all Isabelle had been doing for the past two days. She'd been unable to eat without wanting to throw up and she couldn't sleep due to his face being in her dreams all the time.

"You're twenty one and you can do what you want, but, I'd prefer for you to stay."

"It's not possible."

...

It took another two days before Isabelle managed to step out into the sunlight. She'd been holed up in the apartment on her computer, searching for somewhere to go. The USA was a vast place, there had to be somewhere for her to run to. She didn't have a lot of money. She didn't have anyone. She'd be alone. But, she didn't mind. As long as she could leave Gotham then she wasn't bothered.

There was one more person who she had to see. She needed to know the truth from him and that meant leaving the apartment to find him.

She knew Wayne Manor had burnt down so she didn't know where to go. She called the office which gave her Wayne's personal number and she took a deep breath before calling him. He told her that he'd pick her up from her apartment and that was how she found herself standing on the sidewalk, waiting for him to approach. His car was easily recognisable as he leant cross his seat and pushed the door open, smiling up at her as she looked at him.

"Hello," she greeted him formally and moved into his car, shutting the door as Bruce folded up the newspaper which he had been reading before the car drove off.

"How are you doing?" he asked her and she looked out the tinted windows onto the passing streets.

"I'm leaving," she informed him with a stern nod to herself. "So, I guess I'm handing in my notice."

"You're leaving Gotham?" he checked with her, his eyes going wide as his eyebrows moved up and Alfred remained silent as he drove, wondering what was happening.

"There's nothing here, Mr Wayne."

"Bruce," he replied. "Call me Bruce."

"Or Batman?" Isabelle wondered and he looked away from her and took a deep breath as she fiddled with her hands in her lap and smiled gently to the skirt which she was wearing. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"You're one of a small number who know that," he whispered to her and she shrugged to herself.

"It doesn't matter," she assured him as he rolled his window down slightly to gain some air. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," Bruce whispered, his voice thankful as he looked at the young woman sat opposite him and he studied her features. She really was quite pretty.

"Why the mask?" Isabelle enquired after a second as Bruce turned to face the seat in front of him, looking at the back of his butler's head as he spoke lowly.

"There are always people you care about."

"You do it to protect them?" Isabelle checked and he nodded. "Why did you tell me then?"

"In the long run, I'm not sure," Bruce admitted, his shoulders moving up and down as Isabelle remained silent, watching the billionaire play with the tie against his chest before he ran a hand through his hair. "At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. I needed to make sure you were safe...if you had an incline of who I was then maybe you'd believe me...you'd be more likely to believe me over some random man in a Bat suit. But then, I realised, you'd never believe me. Even if you knew I was Bruce Wayne, Crane would always win."

Isabelle remained silent, listening to him and he chuckled once, clapping his hands together before running them down his cheeks.

"He was your husband. I just had to make sure that he didn't hurt you." Bruce said; his voice gentler than normal as he thought back to the hour he had done researching her in the cave.

"He never hurt me...physically, anyway," Isabelle snorted once, trying to regain composure. Bruce Wayne didn't need to see her cry. He wouldn't appreciate her weakness. He was the Batman, for goodness sake. "Why do you do it?"

"What?" Bruce tried to clarify. "Why do I run around Gotham dressed as a bat?"

"Yes."

"This is the city where I grew up," Bruce spoke lowly. "My parents were murdered...it's corrupt and it's horrifying to watch it. Someone needed to do something and make sure it could be saved. I do it because I don't want anyone else to suffer the way I did when I was a boy."

"And it has to be you, does it?" Isabelle asked him and he shrugged awkwardly at her, unsure of what to say to that as he watched her play with the ring on her finger.

"It can be anyone. The Batman is a symbol...but...there will be many out there who don't have it in them. I do what I need to," Bruce assured her.

"You risk your life for a city who wouldn't know the real you if you died tomorrow," Isabelle informed him and he closed his eyes for a brief second before shuffling in the back seat, listening to the noise of Gotham as it whirled past them and Alfred rubbed the corner of his eye. He didn't want Master Wayne to be here.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured. "The Batman and I are two different people."

"They look the same from where I'm sitting," Isabelle quickly responded and Bruce's lips tugged up into a smile.

"I'll do it until Gotham doesn't need me anymore."

"Do you think that day will ever come?"

"I can't tell the future," Bruce responded, his palms held flat in the air in defence. "Where are you leaving for?" he decided to ask, changing the topic away from him being the Batman.

Isabelle managed a small smile at she shrugged gently.

"I don't know," she admitted to him. "I've bought a ticket for a flight to New York tomorrow night. Whether I stay there or move on is a different story."

"Do you have enough to get you-"

"-Seriously?" Isabelle interrupted him, her eyes wide as Bruce looked at her in confusion. "You were just about to ask me if I had enough money, weren't you?"

"I...I...we may owe you a month's salary which could help," Bruce blurted out and Isabelle chuckled once, leaning her head back so her blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders.

"I'll be fine," she promised him. "I can find work...I'll make it..."

"It's a big city," he whistled.

"The crime rate is lower than Gotham's. I think I can handle it," she promised him.

"You're not running from Gotham, are you?" Bruce checked and she looked sceptically at him. "You're running from him."

"I'm doing both," Isabelle admitted. "He...he's still out there...somewhere...and I don't know what he plans to do or where he plans to go, but, he's none of my concern anymore..."

"What if he finds you in New York?"

"He'd never pass the border check. They're searching for him."

"And don't you want to make sure he's caught?" Wayne asked her. "He could come after you."

"I don't know," Isabelle admitted. "He could come after me or he could have bigger things on his mind. He often spent nights at the office...clearly working on this toxin...I suppose."

"And yet, you still wear your wedding band," Bruce noted, the pair of them looking down at her finger as Isabelle hid her hand from sight by her side.

"Jonathan...he wasn't always a monster..." she assured Bruce and he noted how her eyes watered up slightly and he moved closer out of instinct, his hand moving onto her cheek as she looked into his eyes and the pair of them remained silent. The atmosphere changed in the car, the tension between them being able to be cut by a knife as the car drew to halt and Bruce leaned in closer, his breath tickling against Isabelle's face as the pair of them closed their eyes.

His lips hit hers with force as he kissed her deeply and then became gentle.

Isabelle remained focused as she thought about what was happening...but there was nothing...there was no spark between them. It was just like a kiss in high school at some drunken party. Bruce pulled away, opening his eyes as Isabelle coughed once and looked at him. Her stomach churned at the thought of what she had just done. Her husband had just been caught for being some psycho...she shouldn't be out kissing a billionaire playboy! She should be in bits. She was in bits. God, she felt guilty.

"Bruce...I..." Isabelle stuttered as Bruce leant back and ran his hands through his hair. He'd wanted to feel something. He'd wanted it to be as good as it had been with Rachel earlier in the week. But there was nothing. He cared for the woman. But, he cared for the entire city of Gotham.

"I know," he simply said.

"You didn't feel anything?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Neither did I...but now...I feel terrible..."

"Was I that bad?" he tried to joke and she shook her head.

"I was," she mumbled. "I'm married...and...I did that..."

"Don't you think your marriage has broken up?"

"I know it has. I still shouldn't have done it. I don't know why..."

"Comfort," Bruce simply spoke the word. He thought that was why he did it too. Rachel had told him there was no chance of them being together as long as he was Batman. Isabelle had lost her husband, the man she loved. Both of them thought that was the right way to comfort each other.

"Can you drop me off at my apartment, please?"

...

Isabelle groaned as she heard the phone ring the next morning and she rolled around on the sofa, trying to cover her ears but the noise wouldn't stop. She refused to sleep in her bed. It was too vast and empty. The sofa would do until tonight when she was out of Gotham on a plane. Her fear of flying didn't seem too bad as she thought about leaving the mess behind her.

"Hello?" she spoke into the phone.

"Isabelle!" her mother's voice gasped. "I'm not scolding you or being condescending and if I was in your position...well...I'd maybe do the same thing...this is Bruce Wayne we're talking about...but so soon after you found out about Jonathan...tell me you haven't moved on?"

Isabelle remained confused, standing up and looking outside where the cop car was stationed until the afternoon and she rubbed her eyes, blinking into the daylight as she did so.

"What are you talking about?" Isabelle wondered, dazed and pondering.

"You don't know?"

"Obviously not," she deadpanned with her mother.

"You're on the front page. The papers are having a field day. Wife of crazy doctor and billionaire playboy. There's a photo of you two kissing in his car!"

"What?" Isabelle exclaimed. How was the possible? Oh God...he had the window rolled down...someone...the car had stopped...

"The angle isn't very good but it is clear that it is you," Lydia shrieked. "They're wondering if you were seeing him whilst happily married and working for him."

"What?" her exclamation was louder than previously as she moved up and down the room, her heart leaping in her chest. "That's absurd...nothing was going on...it was a stupid mistake...he...I was confused and-"

"-Did he take advantage?" her mom wondered and Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"No!" she snapped. "Of course he didn't. I was...we were...it doesn't matter...I've got to pack, mom."

"You're still going?"

"After hearing about this, I have no choice."

...

Hiding in Gotham meant constantly lurking in the shadows and blending in. Jonathan knew that. He also knew he had to get to see his wife. He had been walking around in the early morning, the time when people like bankers and lawyers went to work, none of them noting him as he blended in with his dapper suit. His hair was slightly ragged, but, having it cut didn't seem like an option at that moment. He noted people picking up newspapers from the stand selling them as he sighed, wondering if he had made headlines.

"Billionaire Playboy and Doctor's Wife found to be having an affair!" the man cried as he tried to sell more papers. Jonathan froze, looking at the massive blow up photo on the front page as he snuck past, grabbing one and handing over a dollar he kept as he continued walking, looking at the photo and he felt anger build up inside of him. He folded the paper under his arm before reaching for his glasses and placing them into his pocket. It was time to talk to his little wife.

...

Isabelle shut her case as she checked the time in the bedroom. She made sure the wardrobe was shut, glimpsing her husband's side of the wardrobe which was still neatly intact, but, she didn't move anything. She continued her checking making sure everything was in order before she heard the slamming of a door. Her mother was early.

"Honey, I'm home."

Isabelle froze, instantly wondering what to do as his cold voice moved through her body, her hairs standing on edge as she felt her breath deepen. It couldn't be. How could he be here? Isabelle took a deep breath, moving out from the bedroom and into the living room and there he was.

He hadn't changed. She didn't know if she expected him to have, but, he was the same. He wore a smart suit on his body, a briefcase by his side on the floor as his pale face looked down onto a newspaper and Isabelle felt herself pale, seeing what he was pretending to read as he ran a hand over his high cheekbone.

"It seems like you moved on quickly," he hissed at her, holding the paper up so that she could see the picture. "Of course, the news have got it all wrong, I know that. I'm a psychiatrist. I know my own wife."

"Jonathan," she whispered his name, "what are you doing here?"

"Did I not tell you that I'd be back?" he checked with her, his brow arched as he threw the paper to the floor, his hands moving behind his back as he walked around the living room. "I know that you would never have an affair with Bruce Wayne. I also know that you felt nothing from that kiss. The way you had your eyes slightly open and your hands weren't on him told me as much. It was some kind of comfort. Some kind of rushed decision...he wasn't me, was he?"

"What makes you think I want to be anywhere near you?" Isabelle hissed at him as he chuckled once, his hand reaching out to her and dropping down to her neck as she took in a sharp intake of breath and his finger danced along her collarbone as he watched her shiver under his touch.

"You do," he said confidently. "But, if we're going to be married then I can't have you being near other men, it seems."

"We're not," Isabelle snapped, managing to gain enough composure to snatch her body from his hold as she grabbed onto the cell phone and looked at him. "What makes you think I won't call the police right now?"

"You wouldn't," he assured her confidently. "You don't have the guts."

"You murdered my father!"

"I did what was necessary," Jonathan replied, his voice never rising as she began to shake and cry. "It had to be done, Isabelle."

"It didn't," she shook her head. "You're sick, Jonathan. You need help."

"No," he replied. "I need you."

"Too late," she said and he saw how she actually began to dial in the number for the police. He rushed over to her, his hand knocking the phone from her grasp as he pinned her against the sofa, her body squirming under his as he sighed once and reached into his pocket. He knew it would come in handy one day. He pulled the bottle out, undoing the lid as Isabelle moaned and snapped.

"Time for your medicine," he simply spoke, one hand pulling her jaw open as she looked at him in shock and he poured the fluid down her. He closed her jaw, holding her nose shut so she had no choice but to swallow.

"Everything will be fine," he promised her as she fell to sleep and he sat her up, moving her into his lap and holding her limp body against his. "I'm back."

...

A/N: Thank you to reverie-scriptor, BaDWolF89, kaflute14, Undertaker's Hattress, juicycouturevalerie (your review was soo kind!), Eva Sirico, Sam0728, Guest (thanks for spending a lot of time reading this! Glad I didn't disappoint!) and LivinJgrl123 for reviewing!

And to clear up questions asked by mahxie – not sure on the Joker front yet, don't think I could do his character true justice, but we shall see! And no! Bruce and Isabelle won't love each other! She's in too deep with good, old, psychotic Jonathan!

Anyway, another chapter tonight sound good? Let me know what you think!


	20. Chapter 20

"And what is this evil plan of yours?" Isabelle wondered as she sat opposite Jonathan in the back of some kind of van. He had taken a seat on the wall across from hers, playing with his mask as he watched her sleep, affected by the drug as he wondered what to do with her. She had woken up, groggily accusing him of being a murdering asshole. How that had made him chuckle. He had been accused of being many things; an asshole was not on his list. Only his dear Isabelle could call him that.

"What do you mean?" Jonathan wondered, his chin sticking out as she rolled her eyes, looking at her tied wrists as she contemplated about how she could escape the nightmare which she was trapped in.

"You're on the run, Jonathan. You're a psychopath. You have to have an evil plan," she informed him and he chuckled to himself, stretching his legs out in front of him and rubbing the back of his neck which was sore.

"Do you think so?" he checked with her and she nodded once, still feeling droopy and tired as she allowed her eyes to close for a think so. "You've been watching too many horror films."

"Yes," she responded. "Of course, kidnapping me was stupid. And I don't like horror films. Don't you know anything about me?"

"I disagree," Jonathan responded. "You see; the police in Gotham react to public pressure. The majority of the population believe you're some kind of adulteress after your tryst with Bruce Wayne. They will have turned against you. When they hear that you've been kidnapped by me...well...they'll think that you had it coming...some may think that your affair drove me to this! The police will listen and the search for you won't be large. Trust me when I say that I'm the best thing for you."

Isabelle listened to him, unable to believe he was speaking any truth as she gritted her teeth together and felt sleepy again. She didn't know what Jonathan had given her, but she sure as hell felt relaxed as she almost fell to the floor and he spoke again.

"And, of course, I know you, Isabelle. We're married. Your favourite film is Atonement."

"Why did you do this?" she wondered suddenly in a drawl as Jonathan shrugged once.

"The League of Shadows approached me," he simply responded. "I thought they were going to hold Gotham to ransom...they had other ideas...they used me because I was at Arkham."

"What is the League of Shadows?" Isabelle wondered and Jonathan looked at her through narrowed eyes as he ran a hand through his hair.

"They're a society of men. They wanted to terrorise Gotham. That is all you need to know." Jonathan spoke curtly to her and Isabelle rolled her eyes. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to know what her husband had been getting up to.

"And...you're not driving this van," Isabelle noted and Jonathan chuckled once. It was almost as if she had the IQ she had when she was drunk.

"Did your degree help you figure that out?" he asked her, sarcasm evident in his voice before he sighed. "I have men, Isabelle. Men who work for me and do as I ask."

"And you think they'll do that all the time, do you?" Isabelle wondered from him. "Where are we going?"

"If I told you that," Jonathan drawled, leaning forward as his eyes went wide and he looked at her, his orbs covered in amusement as she tried to glare back at him, "then I may have to kill you."

"Go ahead," she urged him. "Death has to be better than being stuck with you."

Jonathan placed his hand onto his heart as he looked at her and allowed his eyes to go wide, his face showing mock hurt.

"Honey," he complained, "how could you say such a thing?"

"How could you do this?" she snapped back at him. "I'll never forgive you, Jonathan. I don't know what you're expecting in dragging me along with you. They'll catch you, you know that?"

"They can try."

"They have the Batman," she reminded him and she could have sworn she saw him flinch for a second before the van pulled to a halt and Jonathan stood up, grabbing onto her tied hands as he yanked her to her feet and placed his arm around her waist, ruefully kissing her on the top of her head.

"I'd like to see him try and stop me," Jonathan said and he almost sounded giddy at the prospect. He pulled his wife out of the van, almost causing her to fall down the tall step as two other men stood on either side, holding the doors open as Jonathan pulled her along the gravelled floor. She looked up to the tall building and wondered where the hell she was. It looked picture perfect. It was a suburban house situated in the middle of Gotham. Isabelle had driven past it a few times when she had been with her father as he had lived three blocks away. A green lawn stood proud with large flowers before it as the two storey house looked peaceful.

"This doesn't look like a place where you'd be," she informed Jonathan as he reached into his pocket and grabbed onto the key, unlocking the front door before pushing her into the house. It was vast, but sparse. There were no decorations or furnishing, just brown carpets and cream walls.

"What did you expect?" Jonathan raised a brow. "Did you think that I'd take you to some abandoned warehouse? Grant me with some class, Isabelle. Being normal instead of hiding will give me time. No one notices anyone normal."

"Unfortunately, you're not that," Isabelle spat at him and he smirked as he backed her up against the spindles of the staircase banister, his hands holding firmly onto her hips.

"You never used to be like this," he whispered, his mouth moving close to her ear as his cheek brushed against hers, the stubble causing her to shiver. "You used to be so meek and shy. So unassuming and scared. What happened?"

"I grew up," Isabelle responded as Jonathan moaned gently as her breath hit his own ear and his hands stroked around her hips.

"I don't know if I like the new you," Jonathan informed her.

"Then let me go," Isabelle spoke, her voice harsh with him.

She'd done her grieving. She'd cried for him and wept. She'd destroyed their apartment. She'd even tried to kiss another man. Nothing worked. All of the pain which she had previously felt had gone. It had vanished as soon as she felt his hands on her. She felt nothing but warmth and pain. He made everything go away. But then she remembered. She remembered what he had become and that the pain would never leave her.

"I can't," Jonathan replied; his voice strained as he kissed along her neck. "Isabelle...I can't...you're my wife..."

"You're ill, Jonathan," she told him, taking a softer approach as she managed to open her tied hands and rest them onto his cheeks. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the moment. "You need help...you can't carry on like this..."

"I can," he said defensively. "I have to."

"What happened, Jonathan?" Isabelle wondered, her eyes searching his. He always looked more relaxed without his glasses on. "Why did you do this?"

"It had to be done," he said quickly. "I don't expect you to understand."

"I don't," Isabelle said softly. "I don't understand why you did this...and I never will...I need you to let me go, Jonathan...if you care for me...let me go..."

"No," he said, his teeth bared as he removed her hands from his face. "You're mine, Isabelle."

"You lost me, Jonathan," Isabelle said, trying not to wail for him. She wouldn't show him how weak she felt. "You lost me as soon as I found out what you had done."

"No," he said again. "In the Asylum...you said you loved me...I haven't lost..."

"Yes, you have," Isabelle said quickly as he backed away, his back turned to her as he dropped his head into his hands and she felt a tear fall down her cheek. "I do love you...I tried not to and it didn't work..."

"There you go!" Jonathan called out in glee, turning around, his hands raised in the air as he smiled back at her.

"But I hate you at the same time," Isabelle responded and Jonathan gulped as he adjusted the tie on his shirt. "I hate what you've become. You're not the man I married."

"I am," he denied. "And you're stuck with me."

...

Bruce remained silent as Alfred drove him back to his new penthouse. He had dropped Isabelle off and he sighed, slumping down in his seat as Alfred glanced back at him through the rear view mirror.

"Sometimes...we need to try and make a connection," Alfred informed Bruce and he snorted once, shaking his head as he did so.

"You're trying to set me up with her?" he checked and Alfred sighed, deciding not to dignify that with an answer.

He'd set him up with anyone if it would stop him running around Gotham as a Bat. She was leaving Gotham. She wished he would do the same. They spent the rest of the drive in silence until they returned to the penthouse and Bruce dealt with the takeover of his company before placing the news on and feeling his breathing faltering as he saw what had happened.

Crazy Doctor's Wife Missing.

"Alfred!" Bruce yelled, standing up and looking at the butler who held a glass of water in his hands. "Isabelle's gone missing."

"Is this a case for the Batman, sir?"

"It looks like it."

...

A/N: So, I have decided to arrange time. I know The Dark Kight takes place a few years after Begins, but, I'm having it come sooner as I want to get the plot moving and then I can go onto the Dark Knight Rises, which I am looking forward to! A lot! Anyway, I know this isn't the best chapter, but, tomorrow will be better, I assure you!

Thank you once again to my reviewrs - Zeny, mahxie, LivinJgrl123, Shadow-Schemer1991, Undertaker's Hattress and Guest for reviewing the last chapter! Let me know what you think guys!


	21. Chapter 21

"I won't make a run for it," Isabelle promised Jonathan as she sat in the corner of the living room and watched him toying with his briefcase, pouring liquids into bottles, his eyes narrowed in concentration as she messed with the ropes which were binding her wrists. She felt as if circulation was being cut off from them.

"No," Jonathan said, becoming annoyed with her persistency as he tried to perfect his antidote once again. The demand for it was quite overwhelming. It could be used as a weapon and that was what he planned to do. Every major dealer of drugs was running wild with the Batman on his way to domination and the arrival of Harvey Dent. Jonathan could easily see that being a problem. He'd kept Isabelle for two weeks, and, she hadn't been much trouble.

Appeals had been made for her safe return. News cameras had followed her mother and Daniel around, asking imposing questions. Even Bruce Wayne had been followed. He was always followed, but, questions about Isabelle had been thrown at him. He'd denied any kind of affair, insisting nothing had gone on between them and Jonathan had snorted as he watched it on the small TV his thugs had brought him.

"Jonathan," she wailed like a little child and he looked at her before standing up from his spot, marching across the room and untying them for her. She managed to nod at him in thanks as he went back to his work.

"We'll be going out tonight," Jonathan said curtly to her. "I have a meeting with a client. He doesn't seem impressed by the drug which I am selling him."

"Why do I have to come?" she asked him and this caused a smirk to form on his face. He pushed his overly long hair from his face before looking at Isabelle. Always the believer in hope, she was.

"Because," Jonathan drawled, "I don't trust you enough to let you stay here by yourself. It's horrible that, isn't it?" he checked. "When you can't trust your own wife then you know you need counselling."

"You're a psychiatrist," she snapped at him. "Surely you can provide the counselling."

Jonathan reached into his pocket, pulling his glasses out and placing them onto his eyes before closing his briefcase and Isabelle stood up, her hands running along her wrists as she winced slightly at the contact.

"I know everything already, Isabelle," he muttered to her. "I know how you feel."

"I don't know how you feel," Isabelle snapped back at him and he took in her appearance. She didn't look much like the woman he had married at that moment in time. Her hair was growing at an alarming rate, meaning she had to have it pulled back into a ponytail and even then it came to her waist. Her clothes weren't at their best. Jonathan had made some of his thugs go and find her some, but, they were ill fitting. The jeans she wore were slightly too big along with the vest top.

Jonathan had managed just fine, yes, his hair was as uncontrollable as his wife's, but, he managed to don a simple suit and he looked healthier than she did. She was losing weight at rapid speed.

"I feel just fine," he said, giving her a smug grin and she rolled her eyes, walking in the empty living room and stopping at the fireplace, looking into the simple mirror which hung above it as Jonathan studied her every movement. "This is how it was meant to be, Isabelle."

"I disagree," she responded, turning back to look at him.

"Is this because I murdered your father?" Jonathan asked her, his voice bored as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "It's becoming dull, Isabelle."

"Wow," Isabelle replied, sarcasm evident in her voice as she looked back at him. "You honestly think I'll get over that?"

"I think you love me enough to get over that."

"Then you're not as clever as you seem," she informed Jonathan.

"You hated your father, anyway," he waved it off and Isabelle's cheek turned red as she watched him move into the kitchen, unable to believe his nonchalance attitude was directed towards her. "You do need to eat."

She followed him through the archway into the modern kitchen as he peered into the fridge, seeing what was available before Isabelle folded her arms and continued to glare at him.

"I may have hated him," she hissed, "but I didn't want him to die. I loved him, too."

"He would have ruined your life. He wasn't helping you, Isabelle," Jonathan assured her as he pulled out two eggs and began looking for some utensils. Surely, his thugs had managed to find a frying pan or something.

"There's no point in arguing with you," Isabelle muttered, flapping her hands by her side as Jonathan smirked.

"Glad you've realised that," he whispered. "I think you could get used to this, Isabelle."

"What?" she wondered, slightly confused as he cracked an egg into a bowl and began to beat it, motioning around the kitchen as he did so.

"You won't have to work again...you can just stay here...be with me...that's what you always wanted, isn't it?" he checked with her and her mouth fell open in complete disbelief. He was deluded.

"It was," she admitted, "before I found you had an alter ego."

"Details," Jonathan simply shrugged off.

"It's a bit deeper than that," Isabelle promised him. "Unlike you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jonathan wondered from her and she rolled her eyes, leaning against the worktop as she pulled her vest top up and shook her head.

"Is that all there is to you?" she wondered from him. "You just want to use your toxin for evil? Even before this...you never...you never told me anything about you...you're a closed book, Jonathan."

"It is how I am," he simply shrugged, placing the pan onto the hob as he stirred up the omelette.

"I'd thought that one day, not in the near future, but not far off, we'd have kids," Isabelle shrugged awkwardly, looking at the blind which blocked out the setting sun into the kitchen, her eyes wide whilst Jonathan looked into the pan.

"We still might," he said and she laughed in disbelief and shook her head.

"It's too late," she reminded him. "Everything's changed, Jonathan."

"Not the way we feel about each other," he reminded her.

"And what is that?" she pushed him.

"You love me, Isabelle," he reminded her.

"And I hate you, too," she informed him and he smiled gently as she watched him. That smile. She was sure he could easily break hearts with it, but, unluckily, it was her heart which was being broken. "And you never even loved me."

"Says who?"

"You, apparently," Isabelle mused. "You never said it to me."

"And that's what you want, isn't it?" Jonathan checked with her, fed up of making the omelette when they were in a discussion like this. He turned the heat off, looking over at her as he folded his arms and read her. "You want me to say it, don't you? Even after all I've done, you still crave it."

"I want to know that I didn't marry a man who didn't love me," she informed him before she felt his hands on her waist, drawing her body against his as he looked down at her, his eyes glittering with delight.

"You're so naive," he whispered, stroking her cheek with the tip of his thumb. "You're so unassuming...and loyal...it's a trait which many will take advantage of."

"You already did," Isabelle whispered before she felt his mouth descend onto hers. His body forced her against the worktop surface, crushing her between it and him as his hands ran up and down her sides and she found her fingers tangled in his hair. She knew it was wrong. She knew every bone in her body told her that this defied logic, but, she needed him. And he needed her.

...

"I need you to behave," Jonathan warned Isabelle as the van pulled to a halt and she rolled her eyes as he kissed her cheek, leaving her sat in the back of the van as he looked around. The noise of dogs was heard around the car park as Jonathan heard Chechen call him a freak for his drugs. He chuckled once, moving out from the van in grace as he looked at the leader of the opposite gang. His thugs stood close to him as the man who had been induced by the drug was pushed forward, quivering and shaking as he went.

"My drugs work fine," Jonathan shouted out as Isabelle moved to rest on her knees, peering out from the van. She saw Jonathan stood there, wearing the mask which had horrified her every night she slept. She felt her stomach clench just looking at him.

"Your drugs," Chechen snapped back, "are completely useless."

"If you don't want my business then fine," Jonathan snapped; his voice cold and dominating. "You can go somewhere else. I don't know where, mind you, seeing as how there is no one left."

"And you think I'll let you get away with allowing this monstrosity?" the leader of the gang snapped at Jonathan as he rolled his eyes from under his mask. "We have what it takes to destroy you, Dr Crane."

"I would love to see you try," Jonathan responded before a loud noise echoed around the car park and he looked around, noting a tall black figure as Chechen looked slightly giddy and Jonathan sighed. He knew it wasn't him.

"Batman!" Chechen shouted out.

"That's not him!" Jonathan yelled as the Bat began to fire with a gun. He rushed forward as his thugs took over, shooting back at the imposter before another gunshot was heard. Brilliant, that was all they needed, imposter Batmen. He felt one move close to him and he quickly turned, using his toxin from the end of his sleeve as the man fell back.

He chuckled to himself, wondering how easy it really was before a smashing sound was heard. Isabelle remained tucked to the back of the van, her breathing deep as she wondered what the hell was happening.

"That's him," Jonathan responded and pushed forward one of his men to make a start on his attack. The noise of gunshots moved through the vast space before Jonathan jumped into the back of the van, shutting the door and removing the mask as he rushed forward.

"We've got to go, sweetie," he laughed, climbing into the driver's seat, dragging Isabelle through the small gap in between the seats and making her sit down in the passenger one.

Jonathan started the car up, quickly driving it down the parking lot as Isabelle fell forwards, remembering that seatbelts were invented for a reason, but, they weren't that good when you were in a rush.

"What the hell is happening?" Isabelle snapped at Jonathan and he looked at her for a second through his mask. She always went pale when he wore it.

"The Batman decided to get in the way," Jonathan complained, looking out the window and seeing no sign of him. "No matter, we're safe. We'll be out of here in a matter of moments."

Isabelle took her turn to quickly look around the windows of the van, her ears pricking up for any sign of sudden movement before she felt the van stop suddenly, a crashing noise heard as Jonathan slumped against the wheel and grumbled under his breath.

"Going somewhere, Doc?" the gravelly voice snapped as he flung the door to the van open and Jonathan's mask was snatched from him. The Batman's eyes found Isabelle's as he nodded at her briefly and she tried to calm her breathing.

"Not now, obviously," Jonathan responded, his voice fraught as Batman grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away. Isabelle moved from the white van, stumbling slightly as she rushed back up the parking lot, wondering what was happening. Her feet went as fast as she could let them before she came back onto the higher level, looking on as Batman tied up her husband along with some men dressed in Bat suits and Jonathan's thugs.

"Why can't we help?" an imposter yelled.

"I don't need help."

"Not my diagnosis!" Jonathan called out, grinning madly as he did so.

"Come," the Batman demanded from Isabelle and Jonathan looked to the side where she stood. Her eyes were fixed on him as the Batman stood by the Tumbler, his hand held out in expectancy as Jonathan's smug look dropped from his face. What was she doing? He shook his head at her, trying to move from the restraints.

What had happened in the kitchen earlier...the way he'd held her...touched her...did it mean nothing? Was she going to leave him?

"Isabelle," Jonathan growled lowly at her. "Let me go. Do you know what they'll do to me in Arkham?" he snapped at her and she winced, feeling hot tears move into her eyes as Batman waited patiently, his jaw set as he watched her with interest.

"Isabelle...I'm your husband..." he reminded her as she moved over to him. The grin spread back onto his face as she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hand moving to his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But you need help."

She kissed him swiftly, feeling the coldness of his cheek and the arch of the cheekbone as Jonathan struggled against the restraints, watching as his wife stood up.

"Isabelle!" he yelled her name and she turned her back to him, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of the jacket which Jonathan had leant her as she took Batman's hand. "Isabelle! Don't do this to me! Isabelle! Please! Please...don't do this...help me...Isabelle..."

Batman pushed Isabelle upwards, helping her into the Tumbler before he looked back at Jonathan and he could have sworn he saw a tear falling down his hard cheek.

...

Two weeks later

"Name," the woman behind the desk demanded from Isabelle as she stood in the clinical hallway, her eyes scanning around it as she pulled her jacket tighter around her, feeling cold at the sudden thought of what she was going to do.

"Isabelle..." she said lowly. "Dubois."

She winced as she said her last name. The woman began typing it into her computer as she thought about what she had gone through to have her name changed back. It seemed knowing someone like Bruce Wayne helped to open doors for you. She'd changed her name back, but, Jonathan hadn't signed the papers which she needed him to sign. He refused to do so and even told his lawyer as much.

"Here you go. If you want to follow Geoff then he will show you to the room," she informed Isabelle, handing her the pass which she clipped into the pocket of her sheer white blouse before following the man through the hallways of the Asylum. It was eerily quiet and she wondered how Jonathan could have worked here before. He opened the door to a room, sliding the lock off and the bolt as he allowed her to enter it, motioning to a seat at a table which she took slowly, looking around the tiled room.

"I'll be back in a moment," he informed her, walking out of the door and closing it. Isabelle sat in silence, feeling her breathing heating up as she thought about the man on the other side of the door. She waited patiently, the sudden noise of locks being opened on the second door made her jump until it was pushed open. And there he was.

Isabelle remained seated, looking at his clean shaven face without his glasses. She didn't dare look at what he was wearing, the grey jumpsuit made her realise how ill he was.

He took a seat opposite her as the man stood in the corner, his hands folded as he looked straight ahead, not bothering to notice what the pair of them were talking about.

Jonathan's eyes found Isabelle's and he looked at her, his face like thunder and his eyes narrowed in her direction.

"If you've come here to plead with me to sign the papers then you've had a wasted trip," he hissed at her and she took a moment to compose herself after hearing him speak.

"I don't need you to sign," she assured him. "It would speed up the process, but, my lawyer tells me that it will be quick anyway...what with your mental health issues..."

Jonathan looked away from her as she said that, feeling a crick in his neck as he ran his hand down his skin.

"So, why are you here?" he asked her.

"I came to see you," she whispered. "I had to see you before I left."

"You could have seen me every day if you freed me from that parking lot," he reminded her and she shook her head, her blonde curls dancing around her face as she did so.

"I couldn't," she whispered. "It wouldn't have been right."

"The whole of Gotham isn't _right,_" he hissed back at her. "Why did you have to come and change the order?"

"Jonathan," Isabelle complained in a sigh. "I...I had to do it...you're ill..."

"I'm really not," Jonathan snapped back at her. "I'm disappointed in you."

"Likewise," she promised him. "We've said all that we have to say, Jonathan. There's nothing more."

"You truly think that?" he mused as she nodded sadly at him. "You think this is over?"

"It is, isn't it?" Isabelle shrugged. "They're not going to let you out of here, Jonathan...ever...and I can't...I can't wait for you..."

"You could," he replied. "You just don't want to."

And that was the part that hurt him. The thought of never getting out of Arkham was something he didn't know if he could cope with. Yes, he may be moved to prison, but, it would still be as bad. His genius mind was trapped. He had nothing. He had no distraction, nothing to do. He only had his memories and he was sure they were going to drive him mad in the end.

"Can you blame me?" Isabelle muttered.

"If you loved me then you'd stay," he said, trying to manipulate her like he had done on many previous occasions, but, it wasn't working. Isabelle winced at hearing that and she shook her head. Jonathan's blue orbs widened in shock as he saw her make the notion and he glared dangerously at her.

"You know that I love you," Isabelle replied. "I just don't want you."

"Do you have any idea what it is like being in here?" Jonathan hissed at her, leaning forward as he continued to glare and she back away slightly, feeling his warm breath on her cheek as she paled again.

"No," she shook her head. "I don't...but...I have to go, Jonathan...my flight leaves in a few hours..."

"Where are you going?"

"Away," she said and Jonathan managed to grin.

"You don't trust me with the information?" he checked and she shrugged.

"It's not important," she assured him, standing up and looking back down at him as his eyes moved to her ring finger.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring," he motioned to her hand with his eyes and she looked down at her bare fingers. "We're not divorced yet."

Isabelle took a deep breath, unable to say anything back to him about that. She'd taken them off the previous day, leaving them in the bottom of her case, unable to throw them out as she continued to stare at them.

"Goodbye, Jonathan," she whispered as the guard opened the door. Jonathan watched her as she walked away, her shoulders quivering and her hand moving to her eyes as something stirred inside of him.

"I do lo..." he trailed off as she turned back to look at him, her eyes full of expectancy and hope. Jesus, she was still hoping he'd say it. "Goodbye, Isabelle."

She stared at him for a second before the guard placed his hand back onto her shoulder and led her from the Asylum as another man dealt with Jonathan who was trying to hold himself together.

...

Isabelle stood in the queue for her flight to California, a ticket in her hand as a stewardess approached her at the boarding gate.

"Miss Dubois?" she checked and Isabelle looked at her with concern. "You're in first class, miss."

"There's some mistake," Isabelle replied, shaking her head and preparing to show her the ticket which she held in her hands as the other woman shook her head back.

"No, miss," she promised her. "Mr Wayne upgraded your ticket. He wished you a safe journey. If you'd like to follow me."

Isabelle did as was asked of her, shaking her head as she thought about Bruce's gesture. Money didn't matter to that man. She boarded the plane, taking a seat next to the window as she looked around at everyone else. They all seemed so smartly dressed as a man moved past her, removing his Prada jacket and storing it overhead. Isabelle placed her bag out the way before sitting down in the seat and taking a deep breath.

"The key is distraction." A voice came from the side of her and she looked across the aisle to where a man sat, his head leant back and tilted towards her as he grinned gently. "You look nervous."

"I hate flying," Isabelle simply replied and he chuckled to himself, sitting back and placing his hands together on his flat stomach.

"Same," he agreed. "But, distraction helps. And also, don't drink alcohol."

"My husband said that," Isabelle muttered, thinking back to Jonathan's words as the man arched a brow at her.

"You're married?" he checked.

"In the process of a divorce," she replied meekly.

"He must have been an idiot," the man snorted, closing his eyes again, "to lose a good looking girl like you."

Isabelle turned to look back out the window where commotion was going on and she smirked once.

No one had ever accused Jonathan of being an idiot.

...

A/N: I deduced after having a go that I could not think of any way to associate Isabelle with the Joker. I couldn't write him that well, either! I didn't want to ruin his character! Hopefully, I haven't ruined Crane's character. But, this is not the end! I have another few chapters left in me and I've begun writing the Dark Knight Rises beginning chapter!

Thank you to Undertaker's Hattress, Sam0728, LivinJgrl123 and mahxie for reviewing the last chapter! Let me know what you think! More later on!


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm sure Gotham is really lovely, mom," Isabelle informed her mother as she settled down onto the leather sofa in her apartment, her feet curled underneath her, the phone held between her shoulder and ear as she wrapped her arms around her mug of hot chocolate.

"The crime rate has gone down, you know," Lydia informed her daughter, her voice stating a matter of fact and Isabelle rolled her eyes, glad that her mother couldn't see her down the phone as she managed to rest her mug in her lap and take the phone into her right hand. The TV had been muted as it showed 'America's Next Top Model' which was at a pivotal point when her mother had decided to phone her.

"Has it really?" Isabelle drawled, tired of having the same conversation with her mother for what seemed like the millionth time. She phoned every week religiously for the past eight years, always moving onto how Gotham had become safer.

"Yes," Lydia exclaimed, sitting on the bottom step of her staircase as Daniel rushed about in the household, trying to prepare dinner and set the table in the dining room as Lydia remained silent. "Commissioner Gordon has cleaned the city up extremely well. He and the Mayor have done well. Gotham isn't what it used to be."

"It can be as clean as it likes, mom," Isabelle responded. "I'm not coming back."

"Well...we shall save this discussion for the end," her mother said and Isabelle wondered what she was talking about as she took a quick sip of her drink. "How was your day at work?"

"Fine," Isabelle nodded. "The housing market is booming in California. Rich beach house owners wanting to sell up to other rich beach house owners. It really is crazy. Of course, it means a heck of a lot of paperwork for me in the office, but, that's fine. It helps that it pays well."

"I'm glad," Lydia smiled down the phone. She was happy for her daughter. She would just be happier if she visited and came back home. Isabelle hadn't stepped foot in Gotham for eight years, refusing to leave California for anything. Lydia and Daniel had visited her in the sunny state, admitting that it was lovely as she showed them around and the best places to dine and eat. "And how was your date the other night?"

"Oh," Isabelle said, drinking some more of her drink and wishing it was slightly stronger as she heard her mother tut down the phone.

"Did it not work out?"

"He wasn't really my type. I warned Annie that I probably wouldn't like him," Isabelle defended herself.

"Sweetie, you don't really have a type," Lydia pointed out.

"I do, too!" Isabelle exclaimed.

"Yes," Lydia replied. "Psychotic doctors."

Isabelle grinded her teeth together as Lydia began to fret down the phone.

"I'm just saying that you've had more dates than I could count and none of them have developed into anything serious...it's been eight years, honey," she reminded her daughter.

"I'm aware," Isabelle said curtly back to her mother. "You don't need to remind me."

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am," Isabelle muttered. "I'm as happy as I can be, anyway."

"I just worry that you haven't gotten over him. Have you sought out any counselling?"

"Mom!" Isabelle complained, almost spilling her drink on the sofa as she did so. "I don't need to see some shrink to tell me how I felt or how I should feel."

"I just think it may help," Lydia complained and then shook her head, knowing that she had to change the topic before her daughter became too annoyed and hung up on her. "A trip to Gotham may do you good, too."

"I somehow don't think so," Isabelle said dryly. "Why don't you and Daniel come out here?"

"Isabelle," Lydia said, her voice going low and she sighed once as Isabelle managed to place her drink onto the coffee table, wondering what her mother's deep sigh was for. "I'd really like you to come here."

"Why?" Isabelle pondered. Her mother had never pleaded with her to go to Gotham. Yes, she had fed her stats and figures of how safe it now was and how it would be nice to see her again. But, she had never spoken with such longing.

"Can a mother simply not want her daughter to come home?"

"Yes," Isabelle nodded. "But, I know something is wrong, mom. What is it?"

There was the shuffling of the phone for a moment before Lydia sighed, looking down into her lap as she felt herself tear up and she sniffed loudly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she shook her head.

"I didn't want to tell you like this," she informed her daughter. "Isabelle...I've...I've got cancer...honey..."

...

Flying was never one of Isabelle's favourite pastimes, but, she needed to do it. She booked herself on the first flight back to Gotham and began packing, stuffing anything which she could find into her case before she called the office to explain the situation and then she called for a cab.

She was jetlagged when she landed, not having slept much in the past day as she stumbled out of the arrivals lounge, seeing the large sign which welcomed her to Gotham. She looked around where boards were being held up, declaring people's names. But, she knew who she was waiting for would be lurking at the back of the building.

"Isabelle!" Daniel called her name out as she wheeled her case and juggled her bag which sat on the crook of her arm. She managed to stumble over to him as he looked at her and managed a small smile for her, awkwardly hugging her before offering to take her case.

"How is she?" Isabelle worried and Daniel shrugged as the pair of them managed to walk out of the airport, the noise of planes moving over them as Daniel loosened the silver tie around his neck and pushed his hand through his greying hair.

"She's gone out with your Aunt Jean," Daniel said. "She's supposed to be relaxing. I don't see how that is easy with that woman there, though."

"She didn't tell me much on the phone," Isabelle responded. "She said...she said the tumour hadn't shrunk...what does that mean?"

"I think it would be best if she told you," Daniel said back to her and Isabelle looked at him as he pulled his car key out and unlocked the Mercedes. He opened the trunk, pulling her case upwards and dropping it into the small space.

"I had a look in Google...Daniel..." Isabelle said and Daniel took a deep breath, his hand clenching around the lever of the boot as he looked at her. "How long?"

"Three months," he whispered. "Four at the best."

Isabelle felt her breath leave her body as she gulped once, closing her eyes as she wiped the moisture from the corner of her eyes.

"She hasn't accepted it," Daniel informed Isabelle, opening her door for her before moving to the driver's side and settling into it. "She keeps telling herself that she's fine...some days she's herself and then other's she breaks down...she's an emotional wreck."

"Understandable," Isabelle mumbled; her hands holding onto her head as Daniel began to drive from the airport. "Why didn't she tell me sooner?"

"She didn't know how to," Daniel responded. "You were so adamant that you would never come back to Gotham."

"She should have known that I'd have come home if..." Isabelle trailed off. She couldn't say it. It wasn't true. Her mother couldn't be dying. The mere thought made Isabelle sick.

"You know what your mother is like," Daniel said simply. "She wanted to come back to work...I told her it wasn't happening. I want her to be able to...work isn't important...there are other things which are."

"Is she taking any medicine?"

"Just to help with the pain she's having," Daniel responded. "They said towards the end...she'll be in pain a lot...but she refuses to go to hospital for treatment. She wants it all in the comfort of own house."

"Jesus," Isabelle complained, sniffing loudly as she did so. "And how are you?"

"I'm managing." Daniel nodded sternly at himself. He had to cope. "She needs me to be strong."

...

Isabelle looked through the home which her mother and Daniel had, wondering what had changed. She had redecorated multiple times, Isabelle knew that from the conversations which she had managed to have with her mother. She waited in the living room, sat on the edge of her seat as Daniel went to into their private office, conducting business.

"That dress will never suit you, Lydia. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Isabelle cringed as she heard Jean's voice echo through the hallway and the shutting of doors and dropping of keys were made audible. Isabelle stood up, looking through the large archway as her mother dropped shopping bags to the floor and Jean pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head.

"Isabelle," Lydia sighed her daughter's name. Before she knew it, she was holding her in her arms, her hands holding her close, running down her blonde hair to make sure she wasn't dreaming it. Jean stayed back, her lips pursed as she watched the reunion.

"Mom," Isabelle said. "I'm so-"

"-No, honey," Lydia said sternly, holding Isabelle at arm's length. "There's nothing more to it, sweetie."

"So you've finally come back from California?" Jean's voice sniped in and Lydia turned to look at her sister.

"Leave it," she warned her and Isabelle's eyes went wide.

"No," Jean hissed. "The only time she can make an effort to come and see her own mother is when she finds out she is dying. It's shameful."

"Jean," Lydia snapped. "Isabelle is an adult. She's perfectly fine to do what she likes."

"No," Isabelle shook her head. "She's right."

"She's not," Lydia promised her daughter, kissing her on the cheek. "I know why you didn't want to come back...honey...ignore her."

"We all have bad memories, Lydia," Jean muttered and Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Come back to me and say that when you find out your husband has murdered your father and tried to destroy a city," Lydia sniped. "I think you should go."

Jean held her hands up in defence before pulling her car key from her pocket and playing with it as she left the house and Lydia forced a smile onto her face for her daughter who remained silent.

She had tried not to think about him. She'd tried to forget what he had done.

"She had no right to have a go at you," Lydia informed her daughter and Isabelle shook it off. She'd been weak. Now wasn't the time for her mother to see that.

...

Daniel continued on with life, trying to be normal for his wife as she spent time with her daughter, allowing her to take her out for meals and treat her to dinners. Isabelle almost forgot she was in Gotham. She was too preoccupied with life with her mother. She needed her. It didn't matter where they was.

Lydia sat on the sofa after a morning of walking around the grocery store, beginning to tire from just that. She felt pathetic. Isabelle was in the kitchen, unpacking when the loud explosion went off. She jumped back, feeling the house shake as she wondered what the hell was going on before she rushed into the living room and her mother looked at her with wide eyes.

"What was that?" she wondered and Isabelle shook her head, moving through to the hallway and opening the front door. Gas moved through the street as she looked around, noticing a large chunk of pavement which had been uplifted.

"I think it was a gas explosion," Isabelle shouted out before she moved back into the living room and her mother shook her head, looking intently at the TV as the cooking programme she had been watching was interrupted.

Isabelle took a seat beside her, watching as the view changed to the football stadium in Gotham. But, it had been blown up. The pair of them remained silent, watching on in horror as the masked man took to the stage and told them of his plan. The crowd were silent as his haunting voice moved through them, telling them of the plans which he had in store.

A nuclear bomb and five months. That was all that they had.

"Oh God," Lydia whispered as the TV went dead and she looked back at Isabelle, guilt washing through her body as she shook violently. "What have I done?"

Isabelle looked at her mother, her hand moving onto her shoulder to try and calm her.

"What are you crying for?" Isabelle wondered.

"I...I got you to come back here...and now...now...what have I done, Isabelle?"

"Mom," Isabelle shook her head, holding her mother close as she felt herself begin to shake. "Nothing. You've done nothing. It might all be a lie. We don't know...we don't know anything yet...it'll be alright...it has to be, mom. It has to be."

...

A/N: So, after the football match comes to release of some prisoners. Wonder who's going to come out there?

Anyway, thank you to all of my reviewers today! So glad you're liking it! Let me know what you think! The next few chapters are going to get interesting!


	23. Chapter 23

Daniel had gone to work early the next morning. It didn't surprise Isabelle. He was trying to keep a company afloat after a time of panic had been installed onto Gotham. No one was sure what was going to happen. Gotham was going to be given back to the public. Bane would make sure of that. Isabelle knew who she needed to go and see. She left her mother sleeping at six in the morning before picking up her car keys from the kitchen and jumping into the car.

She drove quickly through the quiet streets, keeping her eyes open and peeled in case she saw something which wasn't normal. Explosions had taken place all over Gotham. Pieces of buildings blocked some of the roads and no one was about. The time when all businessmen would be on their way to work had changed. It was a ghost town. She drove to the outskirts of Gotham, remembering the way which she needed as she pulled up to the Manor.

She'd researched last night about how Bruce Wayne had become broke. His company had gone under and he had been in hiding ever since. And before then he hadn't been out in eight years ever since the Batman had been accused of murdering a man named Harvey Dent. Isabelle didn't know what to believe. She didn't think Batman would kill anyone. She knew Bruce Wayne never would.

She knocked on the door quickly, her eyes scanning around the Manor as no one answered. It looked deserted and not as well kept since she had last seen it.

"Hello!" she shouted out, knocking on the door again but she received no answer. "Bruce! Bruce!"

"Excuse me, miss."

Isabelle turned around on the steps, looking down them to where a man stood outside of a Gotham Police Department cruiser, his hands in his pockets as he looked at her through his brown eyes with an arched brow. His hair was black, cut short and his face was defined yet quite handsome. He was dressed in normal pants and a jacket which covered the grey top he had on underneath.

"Are you looking for Bruce Wayne?" she asked him and he nodded at her. She moved down the steps, standing on the gravel and pushing her hands into her jeans pockets as she shrugged. "There's no answer."

"He's been gone for the past few days," the man spoke to her. "Just when the city needs him."

Isabelle's eyes went wide as he said it and she looked at him with scepticism, wondering if he knew about Bruce. He looked back at her, eyeing her up with the same amount of wonder before he motioned to the house with his chin.

"How do you know Wayne?"

"An old friend," Isabelle settled on. "He helped me when I needed him."

"Hm?" the officer simply said and Isabelle settled on a firm nod.

"And how do you know Bruce?"

"You know, don't you?" the officer simply said back to her and it took her a moment to wonder what he was talking about as he smiled and bared his teeth, his hands held flat up to her. "I know, too."

Was she really that bad that he could easily read her? She didn't know but she looked him up and down.

"What happened to him?" Isabelle whispered, fearing that someone may be able to hear them as he looked around in discomfort, his weight shifting from one foot and onto the other.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I think Bane...he may have gotten to him..."

Isabelle remained quiet, hearing herself take in a sharp breath before she shook her head. It couldn't be true.

"The news said the cops were buried underground," she changed the topic, looking at his cruiser as he turned around and did the same. He shook his head at her and then looked heavenwards, as if that held the answer.

"They are," he said. "Expect me."

"Then don't you think it is ridiculous?" she checked with him. "You're driving around in that thing when they're hunting you down?"

"My personal car was blown up in that explosion yesterday," he said, his voice curt and full of annoyance. He seemed like a hot head. "I needed to come and make sure Wayne wasn't here. I don't know what Bane has planned by giving the city back to the people, but, I know that it can't be good."

"I'll give you a ride back," Isabelle declared, pulling her car key from her blazer pocket and unlocking her mom's Mercedes.

"There's no need to do that, miss," the officer promised her and Isabelle shook her head.

"It's like I said," she drawled. "They are hunting you down by the looks of it. And Gotham could use an officer...well...one is better than none."

"In that case, can I have your name?" he wondered and Isabelle remained looking at him.

"Isabelle," she declared. "Isabelle Dubois. Officer..." she motioned off, giving him the option to state his own name.

"Blake. John Blake. I'm a Detective, too," he added on with a sly grin and Isabelle rolled her eyes as she climbed into her car and he jumped into the passenger seat, looking around uncomfortably to make sure he had an escape plan. He always did that.

"So, why were you here looking for Bruce?" he asked her as she drove, her eyes fixed ahead as she went.

"Because, I think he's the only one who could have stopped this bomb from going off," Isabelle told him truthfully. "I think I needed some reassurance that he was still around."

"Well, me and some other men are looking into the situation already," he promised her. "You should just go home and make sure you stay safe."

"Do you think Gotham knows what the word safe is?" she asked him, a brow arched on her forehead.

"It did," he repeated. "And then this all happened."

"And there's no way out, is there?" Isabelle checked with him and he shook his head at her. The news had been presenting up to date coverage. All the bridges from the main island were closed off, refusing to be opened by anyone.

"No," Blake replied lowly. "They've got us all trapped here good."

"Jesus," Isabelle complained. "I should never have come back," she whispered, hoping that he hadn't heard her, but, he was a cop. He picked up on everything.

"You're not from here?" he asked and she looked at him as she took the quiet road back into the city, her radio making a buzz noise in the background as her hands gripped onto the wheel tighter.

"I was," she corrected him. "I left when I was twenty one. Eight years ago, to be precise. Moved to California, got a job. I never wanted to come back here. There's nothing but bad memories?"

"Why did you come back?"

"My mom..." Isabelle whispered. "She has terminal cancer...she's got three months..."

"I'm sorry," Blake said after an awkward moment of silence and he looked down at his lap where his fingers were entwined. "I know what it's like to lose your parents."

Isabelle remained silent again after that before she said the same thing back to him.

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," he simply whispered. "What about your father?" he changed the topic and Isabelle winced as she heard that.

"He died when I was twenty one," she muttered simply. "My mom is my only family...except for my Aunt who hates me."

"Looks like we're both alone, huh?" John said, trying to force a smile onto his face. "So, why did you leave Gotham?"

"For a police officer, you sure ask a lot of questions," Isabelle said, irony being held in her voice as John shook his head.

"I'm a Detective." He reminded her. "We're supposed to ask a lot of..." he trailed off as he saw her turn to grin at him and he rolled his eyes, looking out the window as she went back to driving. "Very droll."

"I know," she grinned in amusement. "Bad memories, that's all Gotham has for me."

"It has for me," he assured her. "I didn't leave, though."

"Maybe you're stronger than me," Isabelle shrugged. "I don't know."

"Sh," he suddenly instructed her as he reached for the dial on the radio, turning the volume up as the buzz lowered and a high voice was heard. John tried to tune it in better, Isabelle focusing on her driving as she heard the mention of Blackgate Prison and she shuddered.

Two years ago the letter had been sent informing her of his movements. He wasn't seen as being so mentally ill that Arkham was the only option for him. She had screwed the letter into a tight ball, throwing it into the bin before she went to work, trying to forget about him.

She listened as it was read out that Harvey Dent hadn't been killed by the Batman. Commissioner Gordon had known the whole truth all along, he just hadn't said it. And then the questions were asked about how the Commissioner should resign. John's cheeks turned red as he heard that. He'd been lied to. Everything was a sham.

And then he gave the people Gotham.

Isabelle's foot hit down on the brake pedal as soon as it was announced that prisoners from Blackgate had been freed. She shook her head, her hands holding onto the wheel as she turned pale and John adjusted himself from the sudden braking.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked her before she placed a hand over her mouth to hold in the noise which escaped her lips. "Miss Dubois...are you okay? What's wrong?"

"He's out," she whispered.

"Who?" Blake asked her but she remained silent, unable to do anything but shake in her seat.

...

John took charge of the situation, quickly swapping seats with Isabelle as he looked at the Sat Nav which had 'Home' installed into it. He drove quickly, managing to avoid the chaos of Gotham by going down the side streets until he pulled up into a driveway. Turning the engine off, he pulled the key out and climbed out, opening her door and wrapping his strong arm around her waist as he led her to the door. He knocked quickly as Isabelle remained silent, her features distinctive against the ghost like nature of her skin.

"Isabelle!" a woman's voice shouted out as soon as she saw her daughter. "Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"She was at Wayne Manor, miss," Officer Blake said back to the elder woman as she hurried them inside, locking the door as she went. "She was looking for Mr Wayne but he wasn't in. I turned up and she offered to give me a ride home-"

"-Why?" Lydia snapped at the man, extending her arm to motion to the room as Blake nodded once in agreement, moving Isabelle to the sofa and sitting down beside her.

"I'm a cop. Officer Blake," He explained. "I was in my cruiser...she said she'd give me a lift...they'd kill me if they saw me in that thing..."

"Oh, Officer!" Lydia exclaimed. "Isabelle's not insured on my car-"

"-I don't think you need to worry about insurance, Ma'am." John assured her. "Anyway, we were driving when it was announced the inmates of Blackgate Prison have been released. She froze and said something about he's out."

This time it was Lydia's turn to pale as she looked at Isabelle who was still staring straight ahead. John's arm had moved from around her waist and he now stood up, looking between the pair of them in confusion.

"Isabelle...I'm just going to make Officer Blake a cup of coffee," Lydia said after a second. "Shout me if you need anything, honey."

Isabelle nodded, leaning back and clasping her hands together. She knew her mother was going to tell John why she had acted strangely. She was going to tell him about her ex husband.

John followed Lydia into the kitchen, looking back at Isabelle as he did so and he remained silent as he stood in the vast space and Lydia hit the switch on the kettle, quickly pouring coffee into two cups.

"I'm sorry about Isabelle," she said quickly. "Do you know why she was at Wayne Manor?"

"She said something about Bruce being an old friend," Blake shrugged simply, not giving the full story and Lydia sighed gently and offered the officer a seat at the breakfast bar. "I know it isn't my business to pry, but, I know when something isn't right. I mean when something isn't right at all, not just a little disruption to the cogs, but majorly wrong."

Lydia poured the water into the cups, placing one in front of the young officer before standing on the other side of the breakfast bar.

"What I'm about to tell you was popular knowledge eight years ago," she informed Blake. "All of the cops are underground...but if the prisoners from Blackgate have escaped...well...there's one who may come here."

"And who would that be?" John asked, blowing on his coffee.

"Her ex husband," Lydia said and John's eyes went wide in shock. "You were young yourself eight years ago...weren't you?"

"I would have been twenty four," he simply told her. "I was just starting out in the force."

"You'll remember this. Of course, you've seen a lot worse...what with the Joker and now this Bane..." Lydia shook her head. "Dr Crane, have you heard of him?"

"Scarecrow?" John asked and Lydia nodded. "What about him?"

"He was her husband," Lydia nodded and Blake's jaw fell open as Lydia sipped on her drink.

"She was married to him?" he checked.

"He was a College Professor whilst she was a student. The two of them...they were...well...I thought it was love. Within a year they were married. Isabelle didn't find out until it was too late. He had been found mixing toxins under the Asylum where he worked. Arkham, you'll have heard of it."

"I know the story," Blake simply replied and he shook his head. He remembered that had been big news. "I just didn't register...she said she was called Dubois...I didn't think it would be her."

"It is," Lydia said to the officer.

"He kidnapped her again, right? A jealous rage because she had been sleeping with Wayne, wasn't it?" he checked and Lydia scowled at him.

"You mustn't believe everything which the papers tell you," she snapped at him. "She never cheated on Jonathan. What happened between her and Bruce Wayne was a one off. She needed...I don't know...she said it was just a kiss and Jonathan believed her. He knew she wouldn't cheat on him. That's the scary part, you see. He knows her better than she knows herself."

"But, the Batman apprehended him, didn't he?" Blake said. "He went back to Arkham."

"And then to Blackgate a few years back," Lydia nodded, taking another sip of her coffee. "She went to see him before she left for California."

"So...won't he still think she's in California?" Blake checked. "She'll be safe here."

"I don't know," Lydia admitted. "I don't know if he'll find me or Daniel...I don't know if he'll come and ask us where she is...and if he finds her here...I just don't know what to think about him..."

"It's been eight years," Blake whispered.

"Isabelle never moved on." Lydia said; her voice dark and reluctant. "I don't know if he will have."

...

The noise of the cell door sliding open was enough to send chills down his spine. The noise of freedom was echoing through the corridors as men rushed down, grabbing whatever weapons they could as they made it to the sunlight and onto the streets of Gotham. He had stood back and watched, walking slowly through the corridors as people pushed past him and he rolled his eyes at their impatience. He watched as guards were beat to a pulp but he didn't stop to help. No, he had bigger things to worry about. The exit was in sight, it was the place where everyone was running to. No one noted the guard at the collections desk who had barricaded himself in.

"Excuse me," the man spoke, his hands resting on the counter as the guard cowered in a corner and looked up at him, knowing instantly who he was. "Look, I have no reason to kill you. I'm not like the other loonies in here. I just want something back which I had to hand in when I came here."

The guard looked through the large pane of glass which separated him from them and he nodded, scurrying off into the back as the he remained stood, watching people rush past him with guns in their hands.

The guard returned back, an envelope held in his hands as he pushed it through the small gap. The man took it quickly, ripping the lid open and checking the contents of what was inside of it. The large A4 envelope seemed a daft necessity considering the object was so small. He reached his hand inside, slowly pulling the golden band out before he slipped it onto his third finger on his left hand and threw the envelope to the ground.

He walked out into the sunlight, the taste of fresh air playing on his lungs as he looked around.

Chaos was running around everywhere.

"Dr Crane," a sudden voice spoke out and Jonathan looked up, seeing the man stood there, towering over him. "I have a proposition for you."

...

A/N: He's out! Cannot wait until the reunion, I have it all mapped out and how she's going to meet him! Anyway, thank you to Sam0728, Undertaker's Hattress, LivinJgrl123, BaDWolF89 and mahxie fore reviewing the last chapter! More to come this evening so let me know what you think in the mean time!


	24. Chapter 24

"I've heard rumours," Blake informed Isabelle as he stood with her in the kitchen of her home on the third day of entrapment. He had been visiting her household each day, making sure she was safe and that Crane hadn't come after her. She didn't know why he did it. He didn't really know, either. He simply kept telling himself that he was a cop. It was his duty to protect her. Food supplies were running low after mass panic. The rich had been evicted from their home, allowing anyone to use it. Some had been more fortunate. People like Lydia and Daniel weren't a target. They were wealthy, yes, but they didn't flaunt it.

Their cars had been hijacked, but, the house remained locked up tight. No one roamed the streets or did anything.

"What of?" Isabelle wondered, handing him the coffee which he sipped. She wrapped her small hands around her cup as she heard her mother and Daniel rowing upstairs. She sighed once. They had been arguing at least three times every day. It was becoming a routine. Blake's eyes looked upwards to the ceiling.

"My mom and Daniel," Isabelle simply told him. "Mom's getting worse without her medicine. She doesn't think three months will be how much time she has left."

"She's strong," John assured Isabelle, shifting around on his seat and she shrugged once, moving the jumper up her arm to cover her bra strap as she crossed her legging covered legs and looked at him.

"What was this rumour?" Isabelle pushed him, wanting to change the topic from her dying mother. She didn't know him that well...but...well...he was beginning to come into her life. Her mother approved tremendously.

"You have to promise me that you won't freak out," Blake pushed her and she inhaled quickly, closing her eyes as she did so. She knew it would be about him. Of course, it had to be. What else would she freak out over?

"What has he done?" she wondered lightly and Blake rubbed up and down the back of his neck.

"Bane has him presiding over some kangaroo court," he told her and her eyes went wide as he shook his head, unable to believe what was happening. "Apparently, he's in the courthouse and giving people the option of death or exile."

"Exile?" Isabelle wondered and Blake nodded.

"I was hiding out on the banks of the river last night," he shrugged. "They get them to walk across the ice. No one has made it so far."

"And...that's all he's doing...that's not a court, John...that's just which death would you prefer!" Isabelle exclaimed and he nodded at her in agreement, drinking more of his coffee.

"I agree," he promised her. "But, their guilt has already been decided, apparently. Anyone who is anyone has ended up there. Your ex just asks which they prefer."

"That doesn't sound like something which Jonathan would want to do," Isabelle whispered, shaking her head and looking to the floor as she bit down on her bottom lip. "Jonathan needs to have...more control...he'll be bored...just sitting there and doing that...he didn't chose to."

"Bane ordered him," Blake said and then he sighed, looking away for a second. "Gordon said he will have made him sit there to make sure his mind isn't challenged. This is Bane's city. There is no room for minds like Crane's."

"That sounds more like it," Isabelle agreed with him before the noise of running came from the stairs. Daniel rushed into the kitchen, his heart beating ten to the dozen as he looked at the pair of them, unlocking the back door as he did so.

"You need to go," he hissed at Isabelle and John jumped into action. "Some of Bane's men...they're here..."

"What?" Isabelle said, looking to the hall. "Where's mom?"

"Me and your mother will be fine...Isabelle...it won't be us they want."

"Daniel's right," John agreed, pulling his gun out of his waistband and moving out of the back door, checking all around the yard as Daniel pushed Isabelle to his side.

"I'll look after Lydia. Don't come back until it is safe...Isabelle..." he pushed her as the front doorbell rang and Isabelle shook silently, allowing John to take hold of her hand as he led her to the back of the side of the house, edging around the wall until they reached the front. He poked his head around, noting how Daniel had opened the door and the thugs had barged their way in. As soon as they had moved, he silently crept forward, pushing her in front of him, his body crouching over hers as he managed to get to the car which he had stolen.

...

"It's been three hours," Isabelle complained as she sat in the corner of the office which Jonathan had managed to persuade an elderly man to let them use. He had informed Isabelle that it was a boy's home which had been close to him. The office was small, a computer sat on a desk as Isabelle slumped to the floor, seeing as there were no chairs in the room. Blake had taken a seat next to her, feeling slightly exhausted as his knees rose upwards.

"We need to give it four," he urged her. "We don't want to go back and them still be there."

"What did they want?" Isabelle worried. "I'm...he knows that I'm supposed to be away from here. He knows that."

"We'll find out what they wanted," John promised her. "We just can't rush to conclusions."

"It's easy when the conclusion is staring you in the face," Isabelle replied to him. "If Jonathan is out then he would...it's been eight years...I would have thought that he would have moved on..."

"You haven't," John said back to her, a snort escaping from his mouth as she turned to glare at him and he looked back at her, his shoulders moving up and down. "What? You haven't moved on from him."

"I've tried," Isabelle whispered, closing her eyes and hitting her head against the wall.

"He's been locked away for eight years. His mind must have been going stir crazy. He won't have let go of you," John said lowly. "But, as I said, we need to wait. And I don't get it."

"What don't you get?" Isabelle asked him, trying to distract her mind slightly as he shrugged, zipping his jacket up further.

"How you haven't gotten over him," John mumbled. "I mean...he killed your father...kidnapped you...I would have thought it would be easy to get over him. The male population in California isn't that bad, is it?"

"I can't explain," Isabelle shook her head quickly. "Jonathan...there was something about him, John. When I found out what he'd done then I couldn't wait to be rid of him. But...deep down...it hurt to be apart..."

"You deserve someone so much better than him," Blake said, his voice quite forceful as she arched a brow in his direction, a small smile playing on her lips as the young officer turned red slightly. "You do," he defended himself. "I mean...you're pretty...you seem smart...and kind...I can't fault you."

"Oh, John," Isabelle sighed to herself. "I'm messed up."

"No, you're not," John promised her. "You're just complicated."

...

"Her step father said she was in California," a small, bald man informed the Judge as he slammed the gavel down and demanded recess for ten minutes when he had seen him walk in. Jonathan had made his way down from the stacks of desks and furniture which he sat behind as he placed his hands onto his hips, his lips pushed in a straight line as jeering continued around the court. "He said that he would never tell us where, though."

"What about her mother?"

"She didn't intend on talking either," the bald man chuckled, "even when we shot her husband. She said death isn't far off from her."

"And why is that?"

"Terminal cancer. I checked the records to make sure she wasn't lying to us, too," the man said, sounding impressed with himself as a feather fell from Jonathan's back and he messed around with the black tie which hung around his neck.

"And did you leave her?" Jonathan checked. Somewhere inside of him he thought killing the woman would have been wrong. And Jonathan's moral compass wasn't all together there.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Seeing her husband dying was enough. She wasn't going to talk. I can go back and make her."

"No," Jonathan shook his head. "I'll talk to Bane...see if he can pull some strings."

"Whatever," the man shrugged, chewing on the gum and then turning around as Jonathan moved back up to his chair, taking a deep breath before he looked back at the shimmering ring which sat on his finger. He knew something wasn't right.

He knew how Isabelle worked. He knew that Lydia would have told her about her cancer and he knew that Isabelle would have rushed home to her side, being the loyal daughter which she was. Jonathan would find Isabelle for himself. He'd pay Lydia a visit tonight after his afternoon of work had been done.

"Bring in the next one!"

...

Blake went into the house first. The door was open, allowing anyone in as he moved in slowly, Isabelle behind him, her hand gently resting on his waist where his hand sat on top. His gun was in his free hand as he checked the corners, remembering the Commissioner's advice as he looked around quickly. There was nothing apart from the echoes of sobs.

Isabelle had to resist the urge to rush into the house, screaming out for her mother. But, Blake was in control. He had told her as much.

"They're gone," Lydia's voice sobbed as soon as they entered the living room. She was knelt on the floor, her hands holding onto her husband's cheek as his head rested in her lap. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. "They left."

"Mom," Isabelle whispered, rushing to her mother's side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She could have sworn she felt her mother flinch, but, she soon hid it. Isabelle felt tears fall into her eyes as Lydia stroked Daniel's hair back.

"What happened?" Blake wondered, looking at the dead body which contained one bullet hole in the forehead. "I need to know, ma'am."

"They...they came for you...Isabelle...they wanted to know where you were...he told them...he said you were in California...but...he said he wouldn't tell them...and they did this...they killed him."

Isabelle was shocked at her mother's composure. She had expected her to be sobbing loudly, yelling at her and blaming her. But, she was calm, the odd tear rolled down her cheek as Blake listened intently.

"They said that they'd kill me...I said I had borrowed time, anyway...they left..."

"Do you know who sent them?" Blake asked and she nodded, looking at her daughter who gulped once and rested her forehead onto her mother's shoulder.

"Crane," Blake said, not needing to hear the words from their mouths.

...

Fear had broken out around Gotham, but, it wasn't as fun as it had been. Jonathan's toxin had been more interesting. This fear was just people worried for their lives, worried about a bomb.

Jonathan didn't dwell on this as he made his way to Lydia's home, his hand grasping onto the wheel of the car as he drove. He had to admit, it felt odd driving after all of those years. The court had been dull that afternoon as Jonathan contained order inside of it. His mind was elsewhere, searching for his ex wife.

He'd find her. It was only a matter of time.

He knocked on the front door, managing to be polite as it opened to reveal a small, fragile woman. She looked at him, her eyes widening as he looked back at her, his face stern and she shook her head.

"She's not here," Lydia snapped at him. "Your men did their work."

"I didn't give them any orders to kill," Jonathan spoke, pushing past her into the household as he did so. She took in his shabby appearance, from his suit jacket to the tie which hung around his neck all the way down to his shoes which he had scuffed. His face hadn't changed, his cheekbones were still pronounced and his hair was still black as night. The only difference were the small bits of stubble on his normally clean shaven chin and the glasses which covered his eyes.

"Well, they did," Lydia snapped at him as he looked around the home and she followed him. "She's not here. Don't waste your time."

"Now, you see, this is my issue," Crane informed her, looking back over at her and she remained silent, tucking her greying hair behind her ears. "She's your daughter. You have cancer. I know Isabelle. I know her better than anyone and I know that she would not have stayed in California whilst you're here dying."

"You don't know her that well," Lydia challenged him. "She wants nothing to do with Gotham and it is all because of you."

"She hated the city before she even met me," Jonathan recalled. "I just didn't help her love affair with it blossom."

"As I said, she's not here," Lydia said again. "Go and waste someone else's time and leave me alone."

"She never moved on after me, did she?" Jonathan checked with Lydia who remained silent, thinking of a lie but not being able to come up with one as Jonathan chuckled to himself and shook his head, taking his glasses off and rubbing the lenses. "I knew she wouldn't. I could tell."

"She's had a heck of a lot of dates."

"I have no doubt." Jonathan promised her, looking more interested in his glasses as he placed them back onto his nose. "I'm not an impatient man, but, I'm becoming bored. I just want my wife."

"Ex-wife."

"Not for much longer," Jonathan grinned gently before he picked up a sweater which sat on the sofa and he checked the label inside of it before looking back at Lydia. "This sweater isn't even your size, Lydia. And it is from H&M. I don't think you shop there, do you? So...there's only one person I know who does."

Lydia remained silent. Damn her daughter's sloppiness. She opened her mouth and then shut it like a fish before Jonathan folded the jumper up neatly, placing it down onto the sofa. His eyes burning into her, daring her to challenge him.

"Where is she?" he asked her, his voice dangerously low and Lydia felt her eyes water with tears.

"She's with a cop," she whispered, her voice hoarse as he eyed her up, making sure that she wasn't lying to him. "An Officer...I can't remember his name...she came back here and found Daniel...I told her to go...I said it wasn't safe...he's looking after her..."

"I believe you," Jonathan promised her, his eyes glaring into hers. "But, I need the cop's name."

"I said-"

"-Yes, you said you can't remember," Jonathan waved her off. "You're going to have to try, though, Lydia. You can't lie to me."

"She could be anywhere in the city, Crane," Lydia informed him. "You know that."

"I also know the city is being controlled by Bane who seems to be favouring me, at the moment," Jonathan said lowly. "If he found her then he'd kill her for being with a cop. You know me, Lydia; I don't want to kill her. I can keep her safe through all of this."

Lydia looked at him for a second, wondering if he was telling her the truth before he held his hand up and she noted the ring on his finger before she felt herself crumble at the truth which he spoke.

"Blake." She whispered his name and Jonathan nodded, moving past her and out from the house as Lydia fell to her knees and Jonathan turned around to look back at her.

"I am sorry," he said, sounding slightly sincere. "Death doesn't become you, Lydia. But, don't worry. Isabelle shall be in safe hands."

...

A/N: I had to involve Blake in this story, I just loved him the movie, hope no one minds! So, Jonathan cracked Lydia. Not long until he finds his dear wifey! Anyway, until that moment arises I thank mahxie, Zeny, BaDWolF89, LivinJgrl123 and Undertaker's Hattress for reviewing the last chapter!

More to come later! Let me know what you think!


	25. Chapter 25

"Miss Dubois," James Gordon exclaimed when he saw the young woman move into the base which he and Blake were hiding in along with some other men. Time for sleep was little and time for eating was even smaller when they were constantly trailing Bane's men. But, the night had swept over them and Gordon realised even officers needed to sleep. The room was small and makeshift with duvets strewn across the place and empty water bottles thrown too. They had decided to hide themselves out in the back of some restaurant, one man keeping watch all the time in case Bane's men found them.

"Commissioner Gordon," Isabelle managed to greet him and he shook his head sadly at her.

"Just Gordon," he told her and she nodded once at him. "What brings you here?"

"I decided to bring her back with me, sir," Blake said, placing his hand over his mouth as he coughed once and Gordon raised a brow in his direction, waiting for an explanation. "Jonathan Crane is tracking her location. I don't think she is safe without police protection." He informed the man and Gordon nodded once. He would talk to Blake on his own when he got a moment.

Gordon had been in the force for many years and he wasn't dumb. He knew when something was happening.

"Okay," he simply agreed. "As you can see, Miss Dubois, it isn't much. But...well...make yourself at home. You look like you could use a rest. I'll let Blake show you the ropes," he said and John nodded, thankful he hadn't chucked Isabelle out as Gordon then nodded at him. "You're on watch with me tonight, son."

Blake nodded in agreement, his hand moving onto the small of Isabelle's back as he showed her to a small sleeping bag in the back of the room which was his own. There weren't enough to go around and so sharing was the only thing which they had.

"I'd best be going back onto watch," he told her and she nodded once, feeling ever so awkward in the midst of this world which she wasn't a part of.

"I would have been fine with my mother, John," she whispered to him. "He wouldn't hurt me. I need to go back to her."

"And you can do," he promised her, his hand resting onto her arm to offer her some comfort. "I'll take you back tomorrow. This is just protection, Isabelle. Nothing more. Your mother agreed with me."

"Fine," Isabelle said, too tired and emotionally drained to continue her argument with him. She didn't want to leave her mother. She had protested against it until she was blue in the face, but, Lydia was having none of it. She threatened to drag her own daughter to the car if she didn't go.

Blake nodded once, managing a small smile at her before he turned on his heel and moved up the fire escape stairs, pushing the door open onto the outside world, standing on the steel mesh platform which overlooked the side street. Gordon was already sat against the wall, his hands rubbing themselves together to keep him protected from the cold air.

"Sit down, son," he ordered and Blake did just that, his legs outstretched in front of him as he placed his gun onto his lap. "I didn't know you'd become so friendly with Miss Dubois."

"Oh," Blake said, attempting to be nonchalant as he shrugged. "I just don't want Crane to get to her...I'm doing my job..."

"There are thousands of others in this city who could use your protection," Gordon deadpanned with him, looking into the dead of the night as John ran a hand through his hair. "Miss Dubois isn't the only female in this city who is at risk."

"I am aware," John said; his voice quite harsh as Gordon held his hands up in defence.

"I've seen it all son," he promised him. "I am a heck of a lot older than you."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you've gotten yourself a little crush," Gordon said and Black snorted loudly, shaking his head as he tried to contain himself from denial in the form of shouting.

"No!" he snapped out at the ex-Commissioner. "No...Isabelle's a...she's like...well...she's too hung up on her psychotic husband."

"Yes," Gordon nodded in agreement. "I am aware. I knew when I interviewed her eight years ago that it would take a long time for her to get over him."

"She hasn't done," Blake said quickly. Why was he being so defensive? He didn't understand it. "She says that it is complicated. I told her she deserves someone better...someone who would treat her right..."

"Someone like you?" Gordon suggested, unable to hide the smug grin which was on his face as Blake looked into the sky and shrugged once.

"What's wrong with me?" he wondered. "I'm not a bad guy."

"You're not," Gordon agreed and he stood up, patting Blake on the shoulder. "You'd best get a move on though. You've only got four and a bit months left to prove that to her."

"Where you going?" Blake wondered and Gordon looked down at him.

"It doesn't require two of us to keep watch. You're the youngest so you get this job."

...

"You're sick, mom!" Isabelle snapped at her mother as she stood in the living room and looked at the woman who was heaving, clutching her chest as she lay on the sofa and Isabelle panicked, wondering what to do. "We need to do something."

"No!" Lydia snapped at her. "It's too dangerous to go out there."

"I can't sit here and watch you," Isabelle sobbed once as John stood in the hallway, minding his own business. "I have to do something."

"You don't," Lydia promised her. "You really don't."

Isabelle felt her heart clench at what she was seeing. Her mother was laying her dressing gown, her forehead sweating as she clutched onto her side, the pain becoming unbearable for her as she grunted and cried loudly. Isabelle ran her hands through her hair before realising what she was going to do. She wasn't going to sit and do nothing.

Her plan was lunacy, yet, it was necessary.

"I'll get you a drink of water," Isabelle decided and she looked at John. "Can you stay with her?" she asked him and he nodded. Isabelle took a deep breath before she moved into the kitchen and looked back into the living room where John was assuring her mother things would be alright.

"Look after her," Lydia said, grabbing onto John's hand as he looked at the elder woman, her eyes scorching into his. "She's...she's been through enough...she needs someone like you..."

"I can only promise you that I will look after her as long as she's here," John informed her in a whisper. "She's...she's quite something..."

"He...he's twisted her mind...someone like you is what she needs...someone who will care for her..."

"Ma'am," John complained. "I've only known your daughter for a week..."

"And we only have four months until that bomb explodes," Lydia replied quickly. "She can't get off the island...Gotham...it will ruin her..."

"I'll try and get her off," John promised. "Will that help?"

"Where is she?" Lydia asked. "She was only getting water."

"I'll go look," John said, standing up and moving into the kitchen, his eyes darting around as he took in the sight of the backdoor which was open, the gust of cold air moving through it as he wondered what the hell she had done.

...

Being caught had never been part of Isabelle's plan until she saw her mother that morning. She saw the way she had looked...she was a shadow of her former self. Isabelle knew she was going to die, but, she wasn't going to do it in pain. Not when Isabelle could try to help her.

She's deliberately walked into a corner shop which was open and she knew it contained Bane's men. They looked her up and down as she picked up something which was only worth a few dollars and she threw the tin through the glass of the shop. Sure enough, she was apprehended by a burly man as he stood in front of her, grabbing onto her arm and hitting her around the face.

He'd told her never to do anything like that again or he'd make sure she regretted it. And then she panicked. If they let her go she'd never get her mother the medicine which she needed. She'd never get to him...he had power...he could help her...she'd do anything. And so, she had spat at him. Right in the face.

It earned her another punch, but, it also earned her with a one way trip to the city hall for aggressive behaviour. If she couldn't control herself then she wasn't to be a part of Gotham.

She struggled slightly, trying to show them she wasn't willingly going as they led her into the city hall and she looked around, noticing people sat inside, huddling together and waiting for their turn to be led up the steps where shouting was heard. Roars moved through Isabelle's body as she was placed in the queue and she looked around. She heard his voice demand order. She heard him tell them that their guilt had been determined by the city of Gotham and that this was merely a sentence.

What had she done?

Time ticked by slowly, the clock on the wall never seemed to change as she listened to the choice of exile and death. What happened if he didn't listen to her? What happened if her plan didn't go as she had hoped? What would she do?

"You're up next, pretty," a gruff voice snapped and Isabelle panicked as he grabbed hold of her arm, twisting it behind her back as he forced her up the stairs and past a line of jeering people. She was prey in this world. And the main predator was sat on the top of a mass pile of furniture, his eyes looking downwards before he moved them to the sheet of paper which was passed up to him, informing him of people's misdoings as they sat in the plush chair on the floor, waiting to be told their result.

Isabelle was pushed down onto the seat and she sat forward, glaring at the man as he stood to the side and she grabbed onto the handles, looking upward as the Judge remained silent; his eyes looking onto his lap until his attention was moved to the new piece of paper on his desk.

"Order," he demanded, slamming his gavel onto the desk before picking the paper up and reading from it as people went silent. "Next up, we have..." he trailed off as he read the name and his eyes went wide, their blueness moving from the paper and down onto the woman who sat on the chair before him.

"Isabelle Dubois," he called out, "my ex wife. Welcome back to Gotham, sweetheart."

The court was unsure of how to react as Jonathan stood up and sudden cheers moved through the room. Isabelle gulped loudly, trying not to cry as Jonathan looked at her, taking in her appearance. She wore the same leggings and brown jumper as she did yesterday, flat pumps on her feet and a bobble holding her hair from her pale face.

She looked back up at Jonathan; his face was stern and not showing any sign of emotion as she noted his black suit and his stubbly chin.

"Jonathan," Isabelle whispered his name and he turned away from her for a second, noticing Bane as he appeared to the front of the rows of people.

He could play this to his advantage. He knew he could. Bane owed him for keeping this circus on the road.

"Bane!" he called out his name and the large man looked up at him as Isabelle turned her eyes onto him, shivering at the mere sight of the muscular man. "A word?"

"Now is not the time, Doctor," he informed Crane, gesturing to the people in the court who were waiting. "The good people are waiting for a verdict."

Cheers moved through the people in a wave and Isabelle felt close to tears. It wasn't going to work.

Jonathan knew he was trapped. He knew Bane expected him to make a decision. If he didn't do his job then he would kill him and he would kill Isabelle. He knew how people like him worked.

"Isabelle Dubois," Jonathan said, sitting back down in his chair, his gavel held in his hand as he looked down at his ex wife, her eyes pleadingly looking into his. "You've been brought here due to your apparent misbehaviour in the disruption to Gotham. This is merely a sentencing as your guilt has been decided."

"Jonathan," Isabelle tried to call his name again and he looked away from her, cracking his neck as he did so and he took a deep breath.

"Now is not the time for petty pleas, Miss Dubois," he assured her. "They fall onto death ears. As I have said, your guilt has been decided by the city of Gotham. So, I give you the choice of death or exile."

"Jonathan...please..." she tried again, feeling faint and wondering what the hell she had done as Jonathan looked down at her.

"Death or exile?" he pushed and she didn't answer him after a moment and so he decided for her.

"Exile," he declared and slammed his gavel onto the desk. "Recess!"

The court cheered on as Jonathan moved from his seat and down the stacks of furniture until he came before Bane. His eyes were glittering with amusement as Jonathan looked at him. Isabelle remained in a daze as the gruff man grabbed her elbow and forced her up, dragging her to the door of the court as she watched Jonathan approach Bane.

"You promised that I could have her," he told the man who nodded once, placing his hand onto his shoulder.

"And you can," he said in agreement. "I couldn't have you looking weak in front of all these people just because your ex wife had showed up, could I?"

"So you made me exile her?" Jonathan hissed; anger coursing through his body as Bane motioned to the door on the other side of the room.

"It was necessary," he said simply. "If you want her then you can go and get her."

"What's the catch?" Crane wondered, knowing it wasn't that simple as Bane shook his head at him.

"No catch," he promised him. "I made a deal with you. Recess is ten minutes, isn't it? I would act quickly if I was you."

Bane knew that Jonathan would be content if he had his little ex to play and mess with. He knew he would do as he had asked. If his mind was occupied then Gotham would be Bane's. It was a small price. A deal for domination.

Jonathan watched Bane for a second before glowering as he went and pushed his way through the door. He moved down the corridors, easily finding Isabelle as she was with the other prisoners who he had just exiled. He looked at her through his glasses as her eyes found his and he looked at the men who were keeping her prisoner.

"There's been a mistake," Jonathan barked. "This one is coming with me."

"On whose command?" the gruff one asked.

"Bane's," Jonathan hissed. "Take it up with him if you want to."

Jonathan strode forward, grabbing Isabelle by the arm and forcing her into the corridor, turning her body to face his as she glared at him, her fists hitting at his chest as he looked down at her with wide eyes, another feather falling from the coat which he wore.

"You asshole!" she declared. "You...you...how could you...?"

"How could you leave me?" Jonathan hissed back at her. "I wouldn't have let them exile you, Isabelle." He snapped at her. "Stop hitting me. What do you think you're playing at? Getting yourself caught and thrown in here?"

"I need help," Isabelle told him and he arched a brow down at her. "My mom...she's in pain..."

"And you thought I could get you the drugs which you so require?" he wondered from her and she nodded. "So you thought being brought before me in court was the best idea?"

"I didn't know what else to do!" she snapped at him as people passed them in the corridor and Jonathan pushed her against the wall, his body hiding her face as she felt him shudder slightly. "I panicked...how else was I supposed to get to you...?"

"Not like this," Jonathan growled lowly. "So, you've just come to use me?" he checked with her and she bit down on her bottom lip.

"My mom is dying...Jonathan..." she said, beginning to cry as he looked down at her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he sighed once, burying one of his hands into her hair and pushing her head beneath his neck, cradling her against him as her arms remained limp by her side and she allowed him to have control. If being near him meant helping her mother...she was willing.

Jonathan took a moment to inhale the scent of her, his eyes closing as he failed to believe she was back in his arms after eight long years of waiting. He wasn't letting her go. Never again.

...

A/N: How was the for a reunion! Hope the update was quick enough! Let me know what you all think! More tomorrow!


	26. Chapter 26

"I don't know what you expect me to do, Isabelle," Jonathan informed his wife as soon as he had finished delivering verdicts for the day. He had kept Isabelle close to him, making sure she didn't run off as she stood in the crowds, Bane keeping watch over everything as Jonathan's beady eyes stayed on her.

When the day had finished, he rushed down, grabbing onto her arm and dragging her through the city hall and up a large staircase to the private office sectors where he was residing in. The make shift room was small, containing a large quilt for Jonathan to lie on and then another one for cover. He slammed the door shut, looking around the ruin of his new home as Isabelle leant against the wooden desk where papers were askew and thrown about.

"She needs help," Isabelle informed her ex-husband. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't desperate."

"Charming," Jonathan drawled, sarcasm flowing from his mouth as he removed the large coat which he wore and he settled himself down onto a leather chair which he had managed to steal, his hands running along his cheeks. "I've waited eight years for this, Isabelle. You have no idea how I am feeling right now."

She remained mute, looking at her ex-husband as he looked back up at her, a small grin playing on his face as his hands slapped the arms of the chair which he was sat on.

"Eight years," he drawled. "And you haven't changed a bit."

"You have," she responded and he took his glasses from his eyes, rubbing the lens on his jacket as he shrugged awkwardly. "You look different."

"I'm thirty five," he snorted. "I'm ageing."

"I need your help," Isabelle tried to plead with him again. "Jonathan...please..."

"I can't," he said to her and he shook his head, his eyes searching hers as he tried to show her that he could do nothing to help the predicament which she found herself in. "Bane hasn't given me as much power as you'd like to think. And medicine isn't something which is easy to come across now. Everyone who needs it has taken it. Gotham has been given back to the people."

"So...there's nothing?" Isabelle whispered and Jonathan shook his head.

"No," he said back to her. "I'm sorry about your mother. She was...well...she was okay."

"Better than my father?" Isabelle retorted; folding her arms and Jonathan rolled his eyes. He didn't need this. He'd spent eight years doing his time.

"Anyone was better than him," Jonathan responded. "I still can't believe you got yourself caught. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that you could help me!" Isabelle snapped back at her ex husband, her finger pointing at him as she wildly moved her hands around, tightening the bobble in her hair before she shook her head. "I thought that you could help my mom! I thought that I meant something to you! I thought you would try for me!"

Jonathan remained silent, eyeing her up and down as she turned red under his gaze and he chuckled, placing his glasses back onto his eyes as he stood up, edging closer to her as she remained rooted to her spot, her chin jutted out and her eyes glaring into his.

"Are you trying to manipulate me?" he asked her and she began to open her mouth, a noise escaping her lips as she suddenly closed it and Jonathan grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "You were, weren't you? You think that I'd do anything to get you back because I'm not over you and you were willing because you want to save your mom." He informed her and she folded her arms over her body as Jonathan continued his smile, looking at her in slight disbelief.

"Do you honestly think that you can get me to do what you want?" Jonathan asked her, extending his hand and resting it onto her cheek, his thumb roaming around her soft, pale skin. "What happened to you?"

"I wised up," Isabelle said after a second, slapping his arm away from her as Jonathan's lips fell into a straight line, his eyes baring into hers as he bit down on his tongue.

"I think I preferred you when I met you." He informed her, his tone clipped and harsh. "Never mind, we'll soon install that naivety and vulnerability back into you."

"How?" Isabelle snapped at him. "I don't think you will, Jonathan. We only have four months left in this Godforsaken city!"

"We'd best make the most of the time which we have left then, hadn't we?" Jonathan responded to her and she snorted loudly. "I can't believe you only came back here to see if you could use me, Isabelle. What happened to your undying love to me?"

"It left," she lied to him, her eyes narrowing as she tried to lie to him and he laughed darkly once again. "I moved on, Jonathan."

"I don't think so," he responded. "How many times do I have to tell you that lying to me is pointless?"

"I'm not," she denied. "I built a life for myself in California."

"It's lonely though, isn't it?" he replied to her.

"I might like it like that."

"I don't think so."

"You don't know me, Jonathan."

"Oh, how you wish that was true," he said, his face deadly serious as Isabelle focused on controlling her breathing around him. Why did he have this effect on her? Even after all this time he mesmerised her. Even after all he had done.

"Well, you were stupid enough to get yourself caught here," Jonathan said, his shoulders shrugging as he wrapped his arms around her waist and she struggled in his hold as he trapped her against the wall. "You're not going anywhere, Isabelle."

"No!" she snapped at him, trying to shove at his chest as his hands roamed up and down her sides and her protests became weaker as he dipped his head down, his nose running along the edge of her neck as her body shivered under his touch and a moan moved out of her lips. "I have to go...Jonathan..."

"No," he replied, gently resting his lips onto her shoulder where her jumper had fallen down. "I've waited for this moment for such a long time. You can stand here and protest that you hate me...but we both know...don't we? We both know that I'm the only one who has ever meant anything to you...I'm your everything."

Jonathan placed his lips onto the hollow base of her throat as she closed her eyes, parting her lips as he worked his way up her throat, stopping at her chin, his stubble tickling her sensitive skin as his hair moved against her face. He slowly placed his long finger onto her bottom lip, his eyes staring into hers.

"I'll look after you," Jonathan promised her, kissing her on the cheek before noting the tears on her cheek.

"No," Isabelle suddenly shook her head, her hands moving onto his and pulling them from her body as he looked hurt, his eyes glowering as she backed away from him, turning her back to him and wiping her eyes. "No...you can't...you can't do this to me...you twisted me...and I can't go through it again."

"Do you think that's what I did?" Jonathan snapped at her, fed up of being soft with her when she was fighting against him. "You think I twisted your mind?"

"I don't know what you did!" Isabelle snapped at him, managing to whirl around and face him.

"You were willing, Isabelle," he reminded her. "You were more than willing to marry me and do anything which I asked of you."

"And as I said," Isabelle muttered at him. "Time has moved. I'm not going to stand here and pretend everything is okay...pretending that we can be what we were..."

"We can be if you just stop being so stubborn," he informed her. "It's obvious that you still want me, Isabelle."

"I want to go, Jonathan. I want to go back to my mom."

"I don't think so."

"She's dying!" Isabelle yelled at him, the tears falling quickly as Jonathan remained stone like, emotionless, cold. "I need to get back to her, Jonathan! It's bad enough you had Daniel...killed..."

"I didn't," he said bluntly. "I never told them to kill him. I didn't want that."

"Well, it happened," Isabelle responded. "She can't be alone."

"I'll have her brought here," Jonathan deadpanned with Isabelle.

"She wants to stay in her own home..." Isabelle said and Jonathan chuckled once, shaking his head at Isabelle.

"It's this or nothing," he informed her. "You're not leaving my side, Isabelle. You're going nowhere until you realise that I'm right"

"Looks like I'm going nowhere then."

...

Blake didn't know what to do. He had been running around Gotham like a headless chicken, searching for Isabelle until he realised that she must have done the unthinkable. He knew that Crane was involved. He knew that if he found Crane then he found Isabelle.

He didn't know why he was feeling so compelled to find Isabelle. He knew the city was in disarray and there was much more that he could do with his time, but, she seemed to be his main priority. He was beginning to care for her. He'd only just really met her, but, he knew he felt something.

He only wished she could see that. Jonathan Crane was nothing other than toxin. And he had managed to poison Isabelle.

...

A/N: So, I thought that I'd do a chapter of Johnny and Isabelle having a little chat. Next chapter will be more interesting as Blake arrives. Thank you to Sam0728, Undertaker's Hattress, LivinJgrl123, BaDWolF89, mahxie for reviewing! Let me know what you all think, more tonight!


	27. Chapter 27

"Mom!" Isabelle exclaimed when she saw her mother moving through the office side of the courthouse, her elbow being pushed along by a tall man as Jonathan stood behind his ex-wife, his arms folded against his chest as Lydia pushed the man away from her, not caring for being told what to do.

She gripped onto her daughter's hands, pulling her into a hug before wheezing from coughing, her eyes glaring into her daughter's as she noted Jonathan lurking in the background.

"Isabelle," she hissed at her daughter. "What the hell are you playing at? Why did you sneak out?"

"I had to," Isabelle whispered, hoping Jonathan couldn't hear them as Lydia shook her head quickly. "You needed medicine...I thought..."

"You thought he could get it?" Lydia demanded from her, her voice rising as she glared over at Jonathan and he sighed, removing his glasses and dropping them into his pocket as he walked over to them. "I would rather have died then seen you run here for help from him."

"You don't need to worry, Lydia," Jonathan assured her, standing close to Isabelle's side and he grinned lightly. "I can't help you. But...I thought this was what you wanted when I came to see you?" he checked and Isabelle looked at her mother, her face scrunched up with confusion as she wondered what her mom was talking about. "I said that I could look after her. You told me the Officer who she was with...you wanted me to protect her, didn't you?"

"John?" Isabelle snapped at her mother and Jonathan looked between the two women. "You told him about John?"

"I..." Lydia stammered. "I had to. You were with him...if they found you with him..."

"I totally agree," Jonathan nodded, his arm wrapping around Isabelle's waist as he pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head as she remained looking horrified at her mother. "If you were found with a cop then you'd have been dead. And you're on first term names with him?" Jonathan checked, his eyes glaring down into hers as she moved his arm from her.

"He's a friend," she snapped at Jonathan. "One of the few men left in Gotham trying to stop this bomb from going off."

"If you say so," Jonathan shrugged and he yawned loudly. The night was upon them and Jonathan had tired after his day in court. "Well, as much as I love this family catch up, I'm tiring slightly. Lydia, your room is just down there," Jonathan nodded his head to an open door and she looked back at him.

"I'll stay with my mom," Isabelle hurriedly said and Jonathan shook his head, his hand wrapping around her arm and stopping her from following her mother who was being dragged away by the tall man who had brought her.

"No, Isabelle," Jonathan said, his voice stern as he dragged her back into the office he had made his bedroom and he shut the door, turning the lock.

"She's dying, Jonathan," Isabelle complained. "She's worse at night...she needs me..."

"I need you," Jonathan said, his voice growling lowly as Isabelle took a deep breath, her cheeks tinged red as he pushed her down onto the floor and shrugged out of his jacket. "Your mother shall be fine."

Isabelle knew there was no point in arguing with him. Their arguments had always resulted in him winning and she knew that. She would have been more forceful, but, he had men at his will, ready to do as he asked.

"So, who is this Officer Blake?" Jonathan wondered, settling himself down on the mattress and moving his pillow, plumping it up as Isabelle sat against the wall, watching him as he worked.

"No one," she whispered. "He...we...he's been looking after me for the last few days...making sure we were safe."

"And you received special treatment, did you?" Jonathan wondered, taking his tie off along with his shoes. "There are other people in Gotham who deserve help, too."

"So what?" Isabelle snapped at him. "He decided to help me."

"He clearly fancies you in that case," Jonathan snorted once, taking a swig of the water which sat in the water bottle by his side as he looked at Isabelle, offering her the bottle and she remained silent, not caring what Jonathan thought as she eyed the bottle with scepticism before she took it, draining the water which tasted good to her after a long time of dehydration.

"He'll be dead within a few weeks," Jonathan assured her. "He's a cop in a cop free city."

"He's good," Isabelle defended John. "He's been hiding out for ages."

"Every fly gets caught by the spider." Jonathan said in a slight riddle. "You should know that."

"Whatever," Isabelle said, not bothering with playing his games. He chuckled to himself, yawning again before lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow and Isabelle took another swig of the water.

"Don't even think about running off," he muttered. "The key is in my pocket and the men outside in the hallway would kill you instantly."

"Fine." Isabelle said back to him.

"And it will get awfully cold in here. It is night and we don't have heating."

"I've suffered worse," she lied to him and he grinned, shutting his eyes as he did so.

"Suit yourself, Isabelle."

He didn't say anything more to her, knowing full well that she would move into the covers with him, craving the warmth which he could offer. She was just going to be stubborn. Which she was. Isabelle remained sat up against the wall, the cold finally getting to her as she remained in her flimsy jumper and leggings and she looked at Jonathan who was laid in the duvets, looking so warm.

She tried to be strong She tried to resist the urge to move, but, it was too much. She crawled over to where Jonathan lay, pushing the cover back before pulling it over herself, her head resting on the second pillow which he had. The floor was still slightly hard under the soft duvet. Jonathan grinned to himself, moving closer to her as he finally sensed her there. He moved closer, pushing his chest against her back as she tried to move away, taking the quilt with her. She had always been selfish when it came to cover hogging.

"Get off," Isabelle complained when he wrapped his arm around her waist, his face nestling into her neck as she tried to kick his shin.

"Stop struggling," he warned her, his voice low and dangerous, feeling crabby due to the lack of sleep he had been having recently. "Your mother is in the next room. Don't annoy me and make me do something which you'll regret."

"You wouldn't dare," Isabelle hissed back at him and he chuckled, his breath against her skin making her shiver.

"Don't you know me?" he snapped at her. "Don't push me."

Isabelle remained silent, laying still as Jonathan sighed once, nodding gently and feeling content as he moved his body against hers and took one last breath before falling to sleep.

...

The noise of gunshots rang out in the middle of the night, echoing through the hallway as Isabelle bolted awake. She'd turned her body towards Jonathan's, her head resting beneath his chin and against his chest, her fingers entwined into his as his other arm rested around her shoulders.

"Jonathan," she hissed his name, sitting upright and letting go of his hand as he stirred, trying to ignore her as she stood up, moving to the door as she heard men shout.

"What are you doing up?" Jonathan grumbled, sitting up and looking to the locked door as another gunshot rang out and Isabelle began to panic, wondering what the hell was happening. Jonathan stood up, pulling his tie up before he moved to the door, unlocking it and moving his arm around Isabelle's waist, pulling her against his body as he poked his head around the door.

"What is going on?" he snapped out, seeing a man stood in the hall, his gun in his hand as Jonathan noted the body on the floor and he glared at the man as Isabelle tried to move from Jonathan's hold.

"No!" she yelled out quickly when she saw it. She pushed Jonathan from her, running down the tiled floor and dropping to her knees as her hands hovered over the body and her sobs echoed through the hall as some other men gathered at the end of the hall. Jonathan felt something surge through his body as he pointed at them and then back to the man with the gun.

"She was trying to escape!" he yelled quickly and Jonathan shook his head. Lydia wouldn't try that. She wouldn't leave when her daughter had been there. Isabelle had said she was suffering from her illness in the night. She would have been searching for a bathroom to throw up in.

"No, she wasn't," Jonathan said calmly. "Apprehend him and leave him for trial in the morning!" Jonathan ordered and the men remained apprehensive as Jonathan looked at them with his narrowed eyes.

"Have you forgotten who I am?" he bellowed out. "I'm the Judge here! Now, if you'd like to argue my decision with Bane then be my guest!"

That gained a reaction. They all rushed forwards, grabbing onto the struggling man as Jonathan knelt beside Isabelle, looking down at Lydia's limp body as he snaked his arm around her waist. And this time, she allowed him to as she rested against him, sobbing gently.

...

One week had passed since her mother's death and Isabelle had managed to go a whole day without crying. Jonathan had been acting as Judge, leaving her in his room to cry and be alone. It was what she wanted. Little did he know. Isabelle had been planning. She'd been plotting to escape Jonathan's constant watch. She needed to try and get away from Gotham. It would have been what her mother would have wanted for her. It was what she wanted.

It was what she needed.

Being around Jonathan was evoking too many past emotions inside of her. They were emotions which she managed to bury deep down whilst they had been apart. But, they were now stirring, rearing their ugly head and threatening to become a nuisance. And then, there was Blake. She often found herself wondering about him. She wondered if he would be looking for her. She wondered if he was okay and safe. She hoped he was. She didn't want them to get to him.

"I need some air," Isabelle complained to Jonathan one evening as he entered the office, muttering under his breath about something or another as he looked at her suspiciously. "I've been holed up in here for a week, Jonathan. I need to go outside."

"Fine," Jonathan said; a shrug of his shoulders as he offered her his hand. She took it, knowing it was the only way for him to agree with her. His fingers moved into hers as he moved close to her side, escorting her through the crowds of people who were in City Hall. Once outside, she took a deep breath, the cold air feeling nice against her skin.

Jonathan had made sure she had a change of clothes as she stood in a new pair of jeans along with a thick blue cardigan over her blue vest top.

"Are you warm enough?" he checked with her and she nodded, looking straight ahead onto the quiet and empty street.

"I'm fine," she promised him. The streets were quiet. No one dared to move around and the only people out there were Bane's men.

"Okay," Jonathan whispered. "I am sorry for your mother."

"I know," Isabelle replied. And she did know that. She knew he was sorry as he had comforted her, holding her as she cried and realised what she had lost. He'd even exiled the man who had killed her. That was caring in Jonathan's strange way.

"Don't you wonder what it could be like?" Isabelle suddenly whispered to him, putting her plan into action as he walked with her down the streets, breathing in the air and feeling something stir inside of him. Walking with her down the street, no care in the world for the moment. It was something which he had longed for. Something he had come to dream about after the years he had spent in prison.

"What?" he asked her and they slowed down in the side street and Isabelle turned around to face him, taking hold of his other hand.

"Being free, Jonathan," she whispered and he chuckled, looking up to the sky as he did so.

"I've dreamt about for eight years, Isabelle." He assured her.

"I'm twenty nine," she crooned. "I don't want to die here."

Jonathan looked back down into her eyes, wondering what she was trying to do to him. He sighed once, pulling their entwined hands up so he could itch at his forehead.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked her, knowing what she wanted. He wasn't an idiot.

"We can find a way to leave," she informed him and he shook his head.

"There's no way," he snapped at her. "The bridges are cut off. The ferries aren't running. The planes have been grounded. What do you want me to do?"

"We need to try," Isabelle pleaded with him, looking into his blue orbs.

"And why would you want me to go with you?" Jonathan asked her, his voice low and dark. "You have told me that you can't stand me, Isabelle. Why would I go with you?"

Isabelle remained silent, not having an answer for him. She couldn't speak. Her throat tightened as she looked at him. She couldn't escape his watch to leave on her own. If she could escape with him...then she could lose him...she could lose him if they got off of the island and if they didn't...well...death was imminent.

"You're using me again, aren't you?" he checked with her, releasing her hands as he ran his own through his black hair, looking up to the night sky as she bit down on her bottom lip, unable to say anything to him. "Why do you do it, Isabelle?"

"Because I don't want to die here," she whispered.

"And you think I do?" Jonathan wondered aloud. "Do you think I am ready to die?"

"Then come with me," she begged him.

"And let you use me?"

"Jesus Christ. This goes beyond being used, Jonathan. Yes, I am using you...you can get us through Gotham...and you won't leave me...but yes...I'd love to live for longer than four months from this moment..."

"What have you done to me?" Jonathan asked her as his hand moved to caress her cheek. "Why am I considering this?"

"Because you know we have to," Isabelle replied, stepping closer to him, knowing that she was running out of time to make him go through with her will.

"No," Jonathan said, quickly shaking his head and letting her go. "No...it is not possible...Bane's men would kill us or we'd die trying...we need to hope for something to happen."

"What?" Isabelle wondered. "The Batman isn't saving Gotham, Jonathan."

"It still is not worth the risk," Jonathan told her, taking her hand back as he tried to drag her towards the City Hall. But, she refused to move. "Isabelle," he said; his voice warning and dangerous.

"I'm not going...Jonathan...I'd rather die then live holed up in there for another four months..." she informed him and he sighed loudly in annoyance, bending down to wrap both of his arms around her waist. She squealed in panic as he shifted her over his shoulder and began to move. She thumped against his back.

"Jonathan!" she yelled at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You're not getting yourself killed," he said in a growl. "I won't-"

He never managed to finish his sentence as he fell to the ground, Isabelle moving from his hold and smacking herself against the pavement, her body hitting it with extreme force as she groaned. She looked back at Jonathan who was on the floor, flat on his back with his eyes shut and she wondered what the hell had happened. And then she looked up and saw him stood there, a metal pipe in his hand before he chucked it to the floor, crouching down and offering her his hand.

"Are you alright?" he wondered as she rubbed her forehead and took hold of his warm hand, allowing him to haul her to her feet before he rested his hands onto her waist, looking into her eyes caringly. She gulped once at the look he was giving her. She'd never seen it before.

"What happened?" she enquired.

"I've been waiting here for the last hour, wondering when to go in and try to find you. You came out to me, lucky, huh?" he checked a grin forming on his face as she shrugged once.

"I suppose," she said, looking back down at Jonathan.

"I just knocked him out," he assured her. "Come on, we need to get out of here before someone sees us."

Isabelle remained stuck to the spot, looking down at Jonathan as he breathed deeply and Blake took hold of her hand, trying to pull her away from him.

"You need to let go," he said, his voice deep and low. But, he wasn't controlling. He was pleading with her. Begging for her to come with him. "If you stay with him then you're not getting off of this island, Isabelle. You'll be trapped here with him."

"I..." Isabelle stammered before Blake reached out, his hand gently pulling her chin so that he could look into her eyes.

"It's been eight years, Isabelle," he whispered, his voice soft. "He's not the man who you married. I know that you love him. I know that you still care for him regardless of what you want to feel. But, you need to know that he's no good for you. He can't give you what you want in the future."

"Who says that I'm going to have much of a future?" Isabelle wondered and Blake ran a hand along his temple, exasperated.

"I can't promise you that," he said simply. "I can try to help you out of here, but, I can't promise you it will happen. But...if you do have four months left...do you want to spend it holed up in a courthouse with a man who has done nothing but controlled you? Because, that is what he does, Isabelle."

...

John sighed once, watching as Isabelle sat up in his sleeping bag and remained silent, her body shaking as he brought the bottle of water over to her, handing it down as he knelt beside her outstretched legs.

"You came back," she stated after having a gulp of water. "You came back to find me."

"Well, I was annoyed at first," he told her with a nod. "I couldn't believe you'd run off, but, then I understood. Your mother was your main priority."

"Do you know?"

"I'd heard," John nodded at her. "I'm sorry about it."

"She...she thought you were...well...she approved of you," Isabelle informed John and he chuckled, running his hand up and down the back of his neck before he sent a toothy grin her way and she smiled back at him.

"Well," he shrugged. "What can I say? She wanted me to look after you."

"And I came," Isabelle nodded at him.

"I'm glad," he promised her.

"Jonathan won't be."

"He won't get to you again," he said and she looked away for a second as Blake studied her. "That bothers you, doesn't it?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Everything which you said...you were right...John...he was possessive...but...even now...even now when I'm here...I still don't know how to feel about him."

"I can't say that I understand, because I don't," John said to her, his voice deep and quiet so he didn't wake anyone else up as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, seeing that she was slightly cold. "I don't know why you can't let go."

"It's like I said. I'm messed up."

"I don't believe that," he said, his voice stern with her. "You're not broken, Isabelle. But...you know that I'm here for you, don't you?"

"I gathered that due to the fact you'd stalked me down," she said, managing to smile at him and he nodded once.

"I'm serious," he promised her. "Just...try to get some sleep...we'll talk in the morning."

He began to stand, but Isabelle grabbed onto his hand, holding on tightly to him as he squatted slightly, looking down at her through her outstretched arm and she looked into his eyes.

"I...thank you..." she said quietly.

"Get some sleep," he repeated, squeezing her hand before letting go and walking off to do another night on watch. She watched him go and remained quiet, biting her lip as she lay down on the floor, thinking about everything which was going through her mind.

...

A/N: Thanks to ZabuzasGirl, AimzH21, bitemyt0ngue, Zeny, actressen, mahxie, Mingun, BaDWolF89 and LivinJgrl123 for reviewing. More to come tomorrow after I go and watch TDKR for the fourth time, slight obsession, I know. But, it was brilliant! Can't beat a bit of Death or Exile! Please do review, let me know what you think so far!


	28. Chapter 28

Isabelle awoke early the next morning, laying still and looking around the room which had emptied of the small number of officers who weren't stuck underground. She remained still, her hand resting against her forehead as she blinked quickly and slowly pushed herself onto her elbows, wondering where John was as she felt his jacket fall from her shoulders.

She stood up, wandering around whilst making sure she didn't step on any of the sleeping bags as she looked for the bathroom, hoping there would be a wash basin in there, at the least. She managed to find one, splashing cold water onto her face and looking down at the clothes which she wore. Showers were becoming a rare thing in Gotham and a change of clothes was becoming increasingly hard to come by. It was a miracle she didn't smell worse that she felt. She looked at her hair, pushing it back into her trusted, simple black bobble before nodding once and moving from the bathroom.

"I was just coming to see where you'd gotten to," John suddenly spoke, leaning against the wall with his arms folded as he turned his head to the side to glance at Isabelle. She jumped back, her hand moving instinctively to her chest as she swore under her breath.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she asked him and the all too familiar grin came onto his face as the bathroom door slammed shut and he shook his head.

"No," he said. "The others have gone for the morning. They're trailing Bane's trucks to see which one has the bomb."

"Shouldn't you be with them?" Isabelle asked him, her brow raised and he shrugged gently.

"Someone has to make sure your psycho of an ex doesn't find you," he spoke, his voice full of attempted nonchalance and Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip, following John through the slim hallway of the abandoned restaurant until they reached the small little step on the outside world. They were hidden from view, kept back from the main street.

"You do know that if he finds you then he-"

"-Yeah," John said, interrupting her before she could tell him what her mentally ill ex husband would do to him. He knew the risk. He knew was a small fish in the big pond which Bane had created. "I'll get the death or exile choice. I get it."

"And you risked that," she whispered to him, standing back slightly as John kept looking around as the snow fell onto the streets, his eyes always peeled as Isabelle remained watching him. He'd taken back the jacket which he had leant her and he wore a new pair of trousers along with a new black top. "You risked your life."

"I must be crazy, huh?" he checked with her, a small grin moving from his lips as he turned to look down at her, wondering why she was staring at him like he was crazily insane.

"Didn't you know that I was safe with Jonathan?" she asked him, her voice low and soft as John sighed once, his arms folding across his waist as he raised a brow at her. "He wouldn't hurt me."

"Not physically," John shrugged. "Emotionally...I think he's hurt you more than you care to let on."

"Maybe," she admitted, a rueful shrug moving through her shoulders. "He's going to be angry."

"I deduced that," John promised her. "He won't find us. We don't need to worry."

"What if he does, John?" Isabelle did the opposite to what he had told her to do as her bottom lip quivered from the cold and the fear. "What if he finds you? Do you think that I can live with myself if he kills you?"

"I expect you to," John nodded at her, his hands help up in surrender as she shook her head sternly at him. "Hey, it was my choice to come and find you; wasn't it?"

"I can't help but think that it was a stupid choice on your behalf," Isabelle snorted once, looking as the snow fell onto the empty street.

"My behalf?" he asked her. "Funnily enough, I wasn't thinking about me when I went on a suicide mission to City Hall for you."

"John," Isabelle complained, sensing the heat coming out from his voice as he looked at her with his large orbs. "I...it's over...but...me staying with you isn't a wise idea..."

"Says who?"

"Me," Isabelle snapped back. "Logic. It's obvious that Jonathan is going to be so annoyed when he realises what has happened. He'll come looking for me and then he'll find you...look...I never sold our old apartment...I could hide there."

"By that time it may be too late," John whispered. "You're not going anywhere on your own."

"Why not?" Isabelle wondered. "There's just over three months until that bomb goes off. At the moment...you're a police officer and needed here, John. Jonathan told me all about how you can't get off of the island. I'm not letting you risk your life a second time by trying to help me..."

"I didn't want to tell you," John whispered, pushing hand through his hair. "I didn't want to kill your hope."

"What?" Isabelle wondered, pushing him for an answer.

"I hate to say that your husband was right," he scowled down to the floor. "There's no way off the island. They're keeping us trapped on here. If anyone gets across then the bomb goes off. If anyone tries then they blow the bridge up."

Isabelle took a second to take in what he had just said to her as he took hold of her hand into his, feeling her cold fingers around his warm ones as he stepped forward, heat radiating between them.

"I...I can't get you out of Gotham. I know I said I would try...yesterday...outside the Hall...but it seemed like it was the only way to get you to come with me...I just wanted you to leave him..."

"So...there's nothing?" Isabelle checked and he nodded at her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish I could get you away from here."

"Why?" Isabelle wondered from him and he remained silent, pushing his lips together as he bit down on his tongue. He couldn't tell her. "John...I've been naive and foolish, but, I'm not stupid," she said and he looked back down at her as she pressed her hand onto his cheek, slowly running it down his neck. She knew. He should have known that she knew. He hadn't exactly hid it that well.

"I'm falling for you," he admitted for the first time to her and to himself, his breath smelling of strong coffee against Isabelle as she searched his eyes with her own. "And the worst part about it is that I know...I know I can't give you what you want...and I know you're not over him, as much as I wish you were."

She remained quiet, leaning forward as John's free arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer until he could quickly press his lips against hers.

...

"Death or exile?" Jonathan snapped, sitting behind the stack of furniture which represented his desk and he looked away from the rich socialite who was sat in the plush chair before him and the man quivered, his body convulsing in fear as Jonathan looked around, noting the people in the court as they jeered with annoyance of waiting.

"Do you need me to choose for you?" Jonathan hissed, his voice echoing around the room and he sighed once, rolling his eyes. "Exile it is!"

He sat back, looking at the paper to see who was up next and for what crime, his teeth gritting together as he flapped his arms onto the side of the chair which he had. He grabbed onto the glass of water and drained it, thinking about what happened the previous night. If Bane didn't have him trapped here then he would be roaming the streets, looking for Isabelle. He hadn't seen who had attacked him, but, he had a good idea. Officer Blake was his name.

He'd find them. It was all a matter of time and patience.

...

Isabelle looked down at John as he slept in his sleeping bag. His sleeping pattern was messed up. It was five in the afternoon and he was exhausted, needing time to rest and recuperate. Isabelle continued to watch him as he slept, kneeling by his side, her hand holding onto his. He thought she was asleep too, but, she couldn't slumber. Not when she knew what she had to do.

Anyone who was close to her had been hurt. Her mother had died and her father had been lost. She knew that if Jonathan got his hands onto Blake then he'd be next. He'd suffer for even thinking that he could help Isabelle and take her from him.

She knew his possessive streak. Yes, they had four months until that bomb detonated. But, it was four months longer that John could live to try and stop it with the other officers. She had to think of the other scared people in Gotham. It was four more months of hope. Isabelle had enough blood on her hands.

She looked down as he slept, slowly taking her hand from his and gently kissing him on the cheek. He never stirred once as she felt hot tears in her eyes and she knew she had to leave him before she became too attached.

...

Getting back to Jonathan was considerably easy in comparison to the first time. She walked into the City Hall, being stopped and asked why she was there. The security was tight, she didn't expect anything else. She whispered to the men as they circled around her, telling them that she was there for Jonathan. They didn't really believe that she was there for him, wondering what she wanted with the Judge. And then she had seen him as he exited the makeshift courtroom, his glasses sitting proudly on his eyes as he pulled at his tie.

"Jonathan!" she yelled his name, trying to push past the men as he noted her stood there, glancing in his direction as he grinned and walked up to her. She'd come running back. He still had his effect on her.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Jonathan asked them, protectively placing his hand onto her arm and she remained silent, knowing there was no use in trying to fight him.

"She said that she wanted to see you," one spoke up, sneering as he did so.

"And what were you doing?" Jonathan enquired. "You should have come to me straight away."

"We didn't know that you were expecting visitors." He responded and Jonathan glared at them.

"A brain is required for you to know something," Jonathan snapped back at them. "I suggest you stop trying to think."

Jonathan steered Isabelle away from them, his hand dangerously tight as he dragged her up the steps towards the office section.

"You came back, did you?" he checked with her, his voice quiet as he whispered in her ear and she looked to the floor, focusing on where she was walking as Jonathan continued to grin to himself. "I knew you couldn't resist coming back to me."

"You think I came back for you?" Isabelle checked with him, the snap escaping her lips. "You honestly think that I can't bear to be apart from you?"

"What else could it be?" he wondered, his glasses slipping down his nose whilst he found the key to the office, unlocking the door and making Isabelle walk in before he closed it, locking it again and removing the jacket from his shoulders.

"I did this...because...he said there was no way off of the island...we're trapped in Gotham..." Isabelle said, feeling something heavy sinking inside of her.

"Who is he?" Jonathan asked and then shook his head, feeling stupid for asking such a question. "Of course, John Blake, isn't it?"

"Just leave it," Isabelle pleaded with him, sinking onto the floor as Jonathan remained stood up; his head shaking back and forth as he did so.

"No," he snapped. "Why did he do it, Isabelle? Why did he take you from me? Did he think he was rescuing you from your evil, ex husband?"

"Shut up!" Isabelle snapped back at Jonathan.

"Did he think that he could be the knight in shining armour?"

"What if he did?" Isabelle hissed back, moving her hands from her cheeks and she glared at him and he removed his glasses, placing them in his pocket. "What if he thought he was helping me? Maybe he was!"

"So why did you come back?" Jonathan enquired.

"Because I know you!" Isabelle yelled. "I knew you wouldn't just let me leave! I knew you'd never let me be! And then...if you found him then you'd have dragged him into your ridiculous court! You'd have ruined him!"

Jonathan took a moment to take in what she had just told him, the cogs turning in his masterful brain as she remained silent, trying not to cry again as he leant against the wall, folding his arms as his stubborn chin jutted out.

"You came back to me to protect him?" he checked with her, not sure how he felt about this revelation.

"Yes," she whispered. "He's a good man. He was looking out for me."

"And now you're doing the same for him?"

"I can't escape anyway," Isabelle whispered. "I'm trapped here. Please, just leave John alone."

"Do you love him?"

The question hung in the air between them whilst Isabelle and Jonathan remained looking at each other, their silence speaking volumes as well as their stares.

"No," she admitted to Jonathan. She cared for him. She cared for him deeply. Maybe she was falling for him. She didn't know. The only love she'd had was with Jonathan and that had been twisted. She didn't know what it felt like to be loved normally. Normalcy was not something her life had ever contained.

"But, that's the problem," Isabelle told Jonathan slowly. "I don't think I've ever loved after you...I don't know how to..."

"You're slowly falling for him, aren't you?" Jonathan checked with her, his breathing shallow as he failed to believe what he was hearing. She looked away from him, beginning to cry gently as Jonathan shook his head, burying his hand onto his temple as he heard her sigh.

"I don't know," Isabelle admitted. "He's everything which I should want...he's everything which any girl would be lucky to have...and he cares for me..."

"How touching," Jonathan said, sarcasm radiating from his voice as he said it. She remained silent, not expecting him to understand. He was too complicated for the concept of love. Love was supposed to be simple and that was something which Jonathan was not.

"Say what you like," Isabelle hissed. "It doesn't matter to me anymore."

"And why is that?"

"You've got me back," Isabelle informed him, her arms flapping by her side. "Isn't that why you have always wanted?"

"It was," Jonathan agreed with her, his voice turning soft as he pushed his hair behind his ears, feeling his stomach churn at the sight of her and what he had just heard from her. "But...you wanted me...back then...you still wanted me."

"Back then we was married and happy," she reminded him. "Back then I loved you."

"And now?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Being with you...just...alone...us two...I forget what has happened. Nothing is normal in life, Jonathan."

She took a moment to think, watching as Jonathan looked up to the ceiling.

"What does it matter? You have me back. Just promise me that you will leave John alone."

"Is that what you want me to do?"

"Yes."

"Then I will do it," Jonathan said as if it was simple and she managed a small smile up at him.

"Thank you," she said, her voice compassionate as Jonathan shrugged once.

"I'm not a complete monster, Isabelle," he assured her. "I don't want to hurt you...besides...he won't be bothering us, will he?"

...

"We need to go," Jonathan snapped at Isabelle as he rushed forwards, holding his hand out to her as she emerged from the bathroom where she had been brushing her teeth and washing her face. She looked at him with confusion, wondering what he was talking about as he held his hand out to her and she heard gunshots move through the corridors.

"What's going on?"

"City Hall is under attack," he said, entwining her fingers into his before he dragged her down the corridor towards the fire escape, looking around quickly to make sure he wasn't being followed as Isabelle bumped into him when he abruptly stopped at the end of the hall, she held onto his arm, not letting go of his hand as he moved again. "Bane's men are trying to fight off some other forces. They arrested Jim Gordon earlier...I sent him to exile and then this happened."

Jonathan complained to her before he pushed the fire escape door open, stepping onto the metal mesh steps before rushing down, Isabelle close by his side as he looked around the snow covered street, wondering which the best way to go was.

"Gordon?" she checked with him and he nodded at her, cautiously looking down into her eyes.

"He'll have escaped by now," he shrugged. "I have no doubt of that. We need to find somewhere to hide...for the time being..."

"I know," Isabelle said hastily and Jonathan shook his head at her.

"Trust me," she pleaded with him. She knew it would be a big step for Jonathan to do that. He liked control. He always had done. But, this wasn't his city.

Isabelle saw him manage a stiff nod before she dragged him through the streets, the pair of them managing to hide as they approached the edge of Gotham after a long walk. Jonathan looked up to the building and then back at Isabelle.

"I never sold up," she whispered to him. "I paid for a cleaner every week...I couldn't sell it."

His old apartment. The place where she had moved in once they had married. She'd kept it. Jonathan felt his hand grip onto hers tighter as they moved into the building, walking up the stairs and noting all of the doors were shut, furniture tossed around on the steps along with clothes and belongings. She stopped in front of their apartment and Jonathan bent down, checking the lock which had been broken. One swift shoulder barge managed to push the door open as he stumbled in.

Isabelle shut the door, looking around the trashed apartment. Things had been thrown about and furniture was moved. Dust was beginning to settle in large lumps as Jonathan ran his finger over the coffee table.

"Why did you keep it?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Isabelle admitted.

"It hasn't changed a bit," he admitted to her and she shrugged, walking around and looking into the bedroom before she felt Jonathan wrap his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as she placed her hands on top of his.

"No," she shook her head in agreement. "It's just like the past."

"I wish it was," Jonathan admitted.

"Well...you were insane back then...Jonathan...there was two of you."

"The voice...it is still there...when it wants to be..." he whispered into her ear, his mouth gently resting beneath it as he kissed her. "But...I know what I want."

"I don't know what I want," Isabelle replied to him as his hands moved down her body and she turned around in his hold.

"Just for tonight," he pleaded with her, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and allowing his hand to cup the back of her head. "Just this once," he whispered, bending down to her as his lips softly touched hers and she knew it was too late.

...

Jonathan watched as she slept, listening to her soft breathing as her naked body remained under the covers he had found. The mattress had been tipped to the floor along with their bedside tables and drawers. He propped himself up, his elbow bent and his head resting on his hand as he watched her, remembering how she had moaned his name, given herself to him. The peacefulness on her face was something which Jonathan had never appreciated. He doubted he really appreciated her ever.

She had taken some coaxing, but, he'd finally managed to get her to give into him. It had been eight years since Jonathan had been intimate with anyone, let alone his ex wife.

His eyes pricked up as he heard a sudden noise and the slamming of a door. Footsteps made their way in the room and Jonathan quickly sat up, the cover pooling around his waist as he began to search for his clothes.

The door slowly pushed open, a gun being the first thing seen in the room, followed by a tall man holding onto it. His eyes widened in horror at the sight which he found and Jonathan found his glasses, placing them on so he could see better in the small room. The only light source was a lamp which Jonathan had managed to plug in to the wall.

"Can we help you?" Jonathan enquired, knowing full well who the man was as Isabelle stirred by Jonathan's side, turning over in her sleep, wishing the voice would shut up.

"No," the man muttered, his eyes still fixed on Isabelle as she slept soundly. "You can't help me...but I can help her."

"I don't really know what you mean, Officer," Jonathan admitted. "You are Officer Blake, are you not?"

"What did you do to her?" Blake snapped and Jonathan looked at Isabelle and he shook his head, shrugging into his shirt as he remained on the mattress.

"I did nothing that she didn't want me to, don't worry," Jonathan promised as Isabelle's eyes finally fluttered open and she looked up at him as he sat up. "She can tell you herself."

"What?" her hoarse voice asked and she looked around the room, pulling the cover up to under her arms as she looked in the doorway where he was stood. What had she done?

"John," she said quickly to him and he motioned between her and her husband. "This isn't...he...please..."

"You should have just said that you didn't want my help," he said, a smirk of disbelief on his face. "You look pretty happy with him."

"No," Isabelle denied. "You don't understand."

"No," he admitted. "I don't...you know what, Isabelle? I thought that maybe you were damaged...maybe you had some baggage...but he's got his claws so deep in you that you can't escape. He's got you right where he wants you."

"You're in no position to make comments like that," Jonathan replied, calmly buttoning his shirt up as Isabelle shook her head, crying softly as she watched John's hurt face.

"And the weird part is...I don't know if you want to escape...I don't know if you're as crazy as he is," John informed her and she continued to shake her head, unable to do anything but deny it.

"Enjoy your last days together," he hissed. "I came here to help you. Looks like I had a wasted journey."

...

A/N: Quite a long chapter there for you! Well, I don't want to admit that there are only a few chapters left in this story as we draw to the conclusion between Jonathan and Isabelle. I thank you to bitemyt0ngue, mahxie, Undertaker's Hattress, Sam0728, Mingn and LivinJgrl123 for reviewing.

I may have another chapter out this evening, so until then, let me know what you think as we draw to an end!


	29. Chapter 29

Jonathan watched as Isabelle hastily dressed, fresh tears falling down her cheek as he placed his clothes on leisurely, watching her as she placed her vest top on the wrong way round and her cardigan inside out.

"What's the rush?" he enquired from her, doing his tie up as she collapsed to a heap on the floor as she slipped her flat pumps on and rubbed her nose once. "He's gone, Isabelle. You don't need to worry."

"No," Isabelle shook her head. "He didn't deserve to see that. He didn't...I...I kissed him..."

"Well, this is news," Jonathan declared to her and she looked back at him, a sigh moving through her lips as she looked out the window and her eyes widened at what she saw. She rushed over to the glass, leaning onto the window ledge as Jonathan followed her gaze. And he couldn't believe what he had seen. The symbol was on blaze, highlighting the night sky in Gotham as it saw on the bridge. He couldn't be back. It was impossible.

"Batman," Isabelle whispered, suddenly feeling a sense of hope. Maybe he could get to the bomb. Just maybe it could happen. "He's back."

"And he has rudely interrupted our conversation," Jonathan said, his voice low and annoyed as he grabbed onto her arm, twirling her to face him, his eyes glaring at hers. And then he saw the look in her large eyes and he recoiled, his hold releasing around her as he remembered. Her eyes looked at him...but what was inside them...he knew it wasn't for him.

He'd seen the way she had looked after John as he stormed out of the apartment and he felt something pang inside of his chest, but, he didn't think it was true. He thought it could be the tiredness, but, holding her close and looking at her, he knew his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him.

He'd lost her.

"He's not right," Isabelle told Jonathan quickly. "I'm not crazy."

"No," Jonathan whispered, removing his glasses and placing them into his jacket as he looked at her. "You're not."

"Then why do I feel it?" Isabelle wondered, her voice low and soft as she looked at her ex-husband and he arched a brow in her direction as she turned back to look out of the window, her eyes narrowed onto the blazing symbol as it lit the night sky of Gotham. Jonathan stood behind her, his arm extended as his hand held onto her hip and he thought about what to do.

"I should probably go," Isabelle whispered, turning around to look at Jonathan as he shook his head, his blue orbs glancing down into hers as he moved his arms to wrap around her waist, holding her tight to him as he fisted his hand into her hair. He couldn't let her go. He wouldn't.

"Where would you go?" he whispered and Isabelle sighed once, taking in the all too familiar scent of Jonathan as she pressed her cheek against his chest, relaxing in his hold for a second as she felt the warmth of his body against hers.

"If the Batman is back then there may be a way off this island," Isabelle whispered to Jonathan, her voice full of hope. He scowled slightly at that. Hope was what the Batman represented. He always had done and he always would do.

"You think that, do you?" Jonathan hissed at her, his voice much harsher than he had intended as she stepped back from him and he took his hands from her as he pushed his own greasy hair from his face and behind his ears.

"Yes," Isabelle replied. "I have to try to get away before that thing detonates, Jonathan. Surely you see that."

"And where do I come in all of these plans?" he snapped at her, his voice airy as his arms flapped by his sides.

"We both know that if you even get away from Gotham then you have no chance, Jonathan," Isabelle whispered to him. "You're an escaped criminal."

"You'd be surprised what I could do," he said, his voice law and sending shivers down Isabelle's body as she heard him. She probably wouldn't be shocked at what he could do. That was the problem.

"If...maybe if I did get away Gotham...there's no...no chance...Jonathan..." she said, shaking her head sadly at him, wiping the moisture from her eyes as she noted something move into his eyes. It was almost like she had broken his heart, which, she knew wasn't possible for her to do. He had never had a heart to love her with in the first place.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice small and fragile whilst he looked like a broken man. "Why do we have no chance?" he enquired from her and she shook gently, looking to the stained carpet in the living room as she did so. "You still love me, don't you?"

He heard her inhale sharply, her breathing pattern faltered as she took a deep breath and gulped loudly.

"You know that I do," she mumbled. "You know that I always have and probably always will. But...we both know that I can't erase the past, Jonathan."

"It's been eight years," he said quickly back to her and she rolled her eyes, folding her arms as she looked at him.

"Time can't heal all wounds," she promised. "And you're not well...Jonathan..."

"I can be," he promised her. "The voice isn't always around, Isabelle. It's been rather contained recently. I'm the man who you married."

"You were," she agreed. "But, we're not married now."

Jonathan shook his head, unable to believe he was hearing this from her as his hands turned to balls by his sides and he focused on breathing through his nose as she stepped forward, her hand resting onto his arm as he remained stubborn, his jaw set as he looked away from her.

"Did you think that I controlled you?" Jonathan whispered, suddenly looking down at her as she jumped back slightly. "Do you think that?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But...I was also stupid enough to let you control me...even now...after all these years. I should have known better."

"I only did what was right for you," Jonathan grumbled. "I only did what I could to keep you safe."

"And you did it by any means possible," Isabelle responded lowly. "You can be a selfish and greedy man, Jonathan...then at times...you're like the Professor I knew nine years ago."

"I only wish...God...I wish none of this had..." Jonathan said, trying to ignore the large lump which moving in his throat as Isabelle smiled sadly at him, holding onto one of his hands.

"Let me go," she begged him.

He remained still, feeling her cold skin on his as he turned to look back out the window where the Bat had made his mark and a shiver ran up and down his spine as he closed his eyes, taking in what she had just asked from him. He knew he could never make it out of Gotham. Deep down, he knew that, he just didn't want to admit. But, she had a chance. She had a chance to leave and be safe. And she wanted to go. She wanted to live and she was willing to leave Jonathan for that opportunity.

"Come with me," Isabelle suddenly blurted out to him and he eyed her with suspicion as she made her rash judgement. "If the bomb goes off...then I don't think I could leave you here, Jonathan...you'll die and I can't handle that...I don't want you to die."

"I think I'd rather die than spend another day in prison," he admitted to her. His new taste of freedom had proven to be invaluable to him. He didn't think he could live if he went back there.

"Can't you try?" Isabelle whispered to him. "I don't want you to die here."

"And if I get out, then what?" he wondered from her. "I live on the run all the time."

Isabelle remained silent.

"I'll take you to the bridge," Jonathan said, his voice soft as she looked into his eyes and he grabbed hold of her hand, dragging her from the apartment as he realised he had to act now before he decided to change his mind. "I need to get you away from here."

"Jonathan," Isabelle said, stopping him as they stood on the staircase. He stood the step below but was still the same height as she searched through his eyes, wondering why the change of heart.

"Why?" she simply asked him and he chuckled to himself, his hand running down her greased covered head.

"Is this not what people do when they love someone?" he simply asked her.

...

"What was that?" Isabelle suddenly asked as she looked straight ahead at the bridge which they were trying to cross. Jonathan's eyes peeled as he looked ahead, his glasses not doing a lot to help his vision as he continued to push through the crowds of people who wondered what the noise was a large splashing sound came to their ears.

"Come here," Jonathan declared as he scrambled over the bonnet of a car and reached across it, grabbing Isabelle's hand as she jumped down and he wrapped his arm around her waist, still pushing through the crowds of people as they saw what had happened.

They'd blown the bridge up.

"You sons of bitches! You've killed us!"

Isabelle recognised the voice from a mile away as she looked to the side where a big, yellow school bus sat and he stood next to it, slamming his fists against the side as she made her way up to him, Jonathan in tow reluctantly.

"John!" Isabelle snapped out his name and he turned to look at her, gritting his teeth as he continued to push the kids onto the bus.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a way out," Isabelle replied to him. "It seems that's gone."

"The idiots blew the bridge," he snapped, glaring back over at them as all of the kids moved onto the bus and he looked back at Jonathan and Isabelle. "So if you two were looking for some kind of romantic getaway, then you've had a wasted trip."

"It's not like that!" Isabelle snapped at him.

"She's right, much to my dismay," Jonathan said through gritted teeth as he looked back over at Gotham City.

"Well, it certainly looked like it to me." John snapped back at them as Jonathan glared at him, becoming annoyed with the man's hot headedness. He didn't see what Isabelle even found remotely attractive in him.

"I'm sorry," Isabelle offered him her meek and pathetic apology as he sighed at her, his hand rubbing along his cheek.

"Yeah...well...so am I," he promised her. "You don't...do you know how it felt?"

"No," Isabelle told him truthfully. "I have no idea."

"Now isn't the time," Jonathan suddenly snapped as he heard a loud explosion and he reached for Isabelle, pushing her back against the bus as his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on top of her head as she looked to where John stood, his eyes peeled as he moved forwards and she watched him.

"No," he said back to her. "It's Batman."

Isabelle pushed herself away from Jonathan, watching as Batman flew over the bay, going at speeds which only he could as he carried the bomb and she stood by John's side as Jonathan remained behind, pushing his glasses onto his eyes as he watched the Bat.

He supposed he did have to thank him for something.


	30. Chapter 30

Isabelle watched as Batman rushed over the bay of Gotham, her eyes completely transfixed as she did so, unable to believe what she was looking at. He'd saved Gotham. He had risked his life for an entire city and no one was going to know who he was. No one knew on that bridge except for her and John, both of them not cheering in joy as he dropped the bomb into the bay and the explosion echoed loudly.

She recoiled slightly, a large gust of wind rushing their way as she remained stood on the spot, unable to believe what had happened. She looked up to John who looked back down at her, both of them nodding in understanding as she turned around, expecting Jonathan to be there.

But there was no one. Her eyes scanned up and down the bridge, looking past people as she searched for him.

"Jonathan?" she called out his name, wondering where the hell he had gotten to as John watched her frantically look for him.

...

"He hasn't been brought in ma'am," the woman behind the desk informed Isabelle as she shook her head quickly, resting her hands onto the small table as she looked around the vast hospital and the woman checked on her computer once again. "There's no one here by the name of Crane."

"Jonathan," Isabelle said again to her. "Are you sure there's no one here?"

"Positive," she promised her. "We've had many bodies brought in, miss...some of them haven't been identified but they're not recognisable. We've done fingerprint checks and no one by that name has been brought in."

"He...I saw him..."

"The city is afloat with people with lost people, miss," the woman said, looking up at Isabelle and wishing she would leave as the queue began to grow. "I'm sorry, but there really is nothing which I can do for you."

Isabelle nodded once, realising she was being dismissed as she wandered off, pulling her blazer tighter around her body as she stood in the cold air of Gotham.

"And?" his sudden voice asked her and she shook her head at him as he moved from his spot against the wall, kicking it with his heel as he looked at her and she bit down on her bottom lip, wondering what had happened.

"He's not there," she said; her voice quiet as John looked at her with slight pity and offered her his hand. "Where could he be?"

"Anywhere," John said in a mutter. "He could be anywhere in the city, Isabelle."

"I just don't think it is right," she shook her head. "In the end...he...he showed that he cared for me...I feel bad if I just leave him."

"We've both looked and we can't find him, Isabelle," John informed her, opening the car door for her to climb into as he took a deep breath and thought about what he was about to do. Bruce Wayne's funeral was bound to be a quiet affair. He knew that.

"Look, you're going away from here, Isabelle," John said to her, starting the car up as she remained lost in thought and he shrugged gently.

"I'm staying away from Gotham," she said back to John and he took a deep breath. He knew this conversation was bound to arise between the pair of them. He didn't intend to leave Gotham. It wasn't part of his plan.

...

Isabelle nodded as John checked she would be alright whilst he went to speak with Gordon about leaving the force. Isabelle stood next to Alfred, Wayne's butler, as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"He was a good man," Isabelle said, trying to comfort him as she rested a hand onto his arm and he looked at her, remembering who she was as he sniffed loudly, stopping his crying for a second.

"I...that day..." he recalled. "That day when we were in the car...I hoped he'd follow you, Miss Dubois. I hoped that he would go with you...but...then you and him...there was no chemistry and I knew you'd get away from Gotham because there was never anything here. I wanted nothing more than for him to follow you. For him to try and make chemistry. I wanted him to get out of here."

"I... Isabelle began but she closed her mouth, wiping a tear from her eye as she did so. "Bruce and I were...there was nothing between us. He couldn't leave Gotham."

"And that's the part which hurts me," Alfred said. "But, he would have been happy to see you...to see you...moved on..." he forced a smile onto his face as Isabelle smiled gently back at him. "He often wondered how you were doing. Your odd letter made his day when it was dull."

"We'll never forget him," Isabelle promised as she felt a hand touch her back gently and she turned to see Blake stood there.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Isabelle nodded, kissing Alfred on the cheek as he turned back to look at Bruce's stone, his eyes filling with tears once again.

...

Isabelle had nothing. Her home in California had been lost. Her job given away. Her possessions sold to pay for the mortgage which she had. There was nothing in California for her. John had allowed her to stay at his apartment, making a make shift bed for her on the sofa as she tried to figure things out.

A whole month had passed by the time she noted something wasn't right with her. And she wasn't talking emotionally. She'd gone to the Chemist and checked the stick three times. She'd been extremely curt to the woman behind the counter as she bought three pregnancy tests. And then when she'd done them...well...they'd all come back positive.

...

"I'm just over one month gone," Isabelle informed John as he picked her up from the hospital. He sat in his car, his hands holding onto the wheel as he watched her as she looked forward, her eyes emotionless and her body shaking as she thought about what was growing inside of her.

"I take it that you're keeping it?" he checked with her and she nodded at him. She didn't have the heart to do anything other than that. She leant back in her seat, taking a deep breath as she took a moment to think.

"My shrink's going to have a field day with this," she complained and John chuckled gently at that, beginning to drive through the streets of Gotham.

...

Isabelle had been seeing a psychiatrist for just over two weeks. Two sessions a week. John had forced her into it, telling her that she needed to talk to someone to make sure she was okay.

Things between her and John were interesting, to say the least. She cared for him. He was a good man and he informed her that he would wait. He said that he would wait as long as it took for her to get over Jonathan.

She just didn't know if she ever would get over him. But she tried.

"Dr Jacobs isn't in today, Miss Dubois," the secretary informed Isabelle as she sat in the waiting room, flipping through the magazine which sat on the side and she looked at the brunette woman as she motioned to the door which contained the large white couch which she was to spend the next hour on. "But, we have a Dr Rance."

"Okay," Isabelle said, not too fussed with who she saw. It wasn't like she had a connection with her psychiatrist.

"If you'd like to go in," she motioned to the door and Isabelle stood up, moving into the office which was empty at that moment in time. "He'll be through in a moment."

Isabelle sat down on the sofa, folding her legs and resting her hands onto her stomach as she took a deep breath, becoming nervous as she thought about what she was about to go through. Admitting she was carrying his child would be quite something.

"It'll be fine," she whispered to herself. "It'll be okay."

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

Isabelle remained silent, listening as he said it and she didn't turn around. She knew who it was. Her breathing faltered as she remained silent, watching the desk as she heard footsteps move over to the small leather chair and then she looked at him.

He sat down, crossing his legs as he looked at her, the usual grin on his face. His hair was clean cut and his chin shaven, his eyes staring into hers through his new glasses and he wore a pinstriped shirt with his black tie and brown sweater as he watched her.

"You're back," Isabelle whispered and he shrugged.

"We're here to discuss you and not me," he simply informed her as her mouth continued to hang open in disbelief. How was this happening? "How have you been?"

"Me?" she checked with him, shaking her head in disbelief. "I've been...I've been okay..."

"Good," he said, sounding sincere as he placed his notebook into his hands and she shook her head, unable to believe this was happening.

"Dr Rance?" she checked with him and he leant forward, still grinning.

"Anagram," he whispered and she worked it out. "I can't go around with my real name, can I?"

"How are you going around at all?" she asked, sounding confused as he chuckled at her.

"I...I pulled a few strings..." he admitted. "The less you know the better. I'm not staying here for long."

"Why?"

"I have to move on," he said with a shrug. "Somewhere that no one really knows me. The people pass me by without noticing me, but, I still worry someone will one day."

"You left," Isabelle whispered. "One minute you were there...and the next...you were gone..."

"I couldn't stand and watch," he mumbled. "I had to go. I can't explain it."

"I looked everywhere for you," she informed me. "John and me...we looked..."

"You're with him?"

"He's letting me stay at his. I don't really have anything left in California. I'm trying to figure out what to do."

"And the counselling was his idea?" Jonathan checked with her. "He thought it would help you get over me?"

"It's not working," she promised Jonathan and he smiled once, moving into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper.

"I don't have too long left, so, I need to cut the session short."

"It's not really a session," she deadpanned with him as his scrawled writing moved onto the piece of paper and he remained smiling as he wrote. "I bet I still have to pay full price."

"Of course," he nodded. "The price for private."

"Where are you going?" she whispered as he handed her the piece of paper he had folded up, his fingers tickling against her palm as he did so.

"It's there," he informed her. "You can either follow me...or stay here...with John."

"What?" Isabelle snapped at him. "How can you do that to me? Give me a choice?"

"Quite easily," he said, rubbing the lens of his glasses. "Because I don't control you. Not anymore."

"So, you're making me choose?"

"I'm giving you an option," he shrugged back to her. "As I said, I have to go. It's your choice."

"The voice?" she asked him and he shrugged at her.

"It's there," he promised. "Subdued, but there...quiet...I'm on medication to control it. The man I was...he's back again..."

"And what you said?" Isabelle wondered and he grinned, moving over to her as he dropped his lips onto the top of her head.

"I meant it," he promised her. "I love you."

Isabelle remained silent, watching as he moved from the room and she remained still, undoing the paper and looking at the address as she began to wonder what to do.

She sighed once, standing up and folding the paper into her pocket before grabbing onto her bag and pressing a hand to her stomach. She should have told him she was carrying his child. He had a right to know.

She walked onto the streets of Gotham, her face scrunched up in concentration as she moved through the crowds of people on the streets.

...

Isabelle stood at the departure gate, a ticket held in her hand as she waited to board the plane. She'd told Blake she had to leave him. She told him that he deserved someone who would love him unconditionally. Someone who would treat him right. The way he should be treated.

She remained silent as she felt a hand suddenly rest on her back and she messed around with her boarding ticket and she looked up to see him stood there, his eyes looking straight ahead as his coat remained held over his arm. Neither of them said anything as they boarded the plane. She pushed her hair behind hear ear, thinking about what she was about to do and hoping that it was the right decision. He wasn't born a monster, she was sure of that much. And, as he stood beside her, she saw that. He wasn't a monster. He had just been messed up.

...

A/N: So, I had the last two chapters out last night, truth be known, wasn't happy with them. So, I rewrote them again and this is the result. So, it is all finished just before I go to Ibiza (TDKR scene!) so let me know what you think.

I thank all of the reviewers through the story. Couldn't have done it without your support so thank you, so very, very much!


	31. Chapter 31

Isabelle settled herself onto the plane, taking a deep breath as she relaxed slightly. They had managed to get through security; she supposed that was one of the main things. It had to be. No one would bother them on the plane now. She took a seat next to the window, looking out and onto the runway as he placed his briefcase into the overhead compartment along with his coat. He sat down in the seat next to hers, leaning back and gripping onto the sides of his chair.

He felt her hand move on top of his as she remained looking out the window. He knew she was worried. He knew she was scared that they wouldn't manage to get out of the USA. A little part of his brain was also niggling away at him, asking him how he could even think to get away with it. But, he had to. He had a future away from the States. He had a future with his wife...well...ex-wife.

"You're tense," she observed and he nodded, moving the tie down his shirt slightly to allow his neck to breathe as she wrapped her hands into each other. "Don't look nervous."

"How can I not be?" he asked her, his voice quiet as he bent down to whisper into her ear and she rested her hand onto his smooth cheek, pushing his black hair from his face as she rested her forehead against his.

"We're going to get out of here," she promised him. "We're on the plane, Jonathan. We're almost gone."

"I'll share the optimism when we're out of here," he promised, kissing her gently on the forehead as she sighed once, leaning back in her seat and controlling her breathing as they heard the cabin crew being told to shut the doors.

She hadn't told him yet. She still hadn't told him she was pregnant and with his child. She had planned to when they had left Gotham. And then she had wondered if telling him in the airport was the best plan. She didn't know how he would react. Would he be mad that she hadn't told him sooner?

"You're still scared of flying," Jonathan noted, placing the belt across his skinny waist and she nodded once, doing the same with her shaking hands. In the end, he reached across, buckling it for her, his hands skimming against the top of her thighs as her breathing faltered and he continued to grin at her as he picked her hand up into his and held it tightly. "Remember what I told you."

"I still think alcohol would make it better," she whispered back to him and he shook his head at her. She couldn't drink anyway. She was pregnant. There was the voice again, telling her to tell him. She would do. She'd wait until the plane was off the tarmac and he couldn't run off.

She remained silent as she held onto Jonathan's hand and the plane moved down the runway and he kissed the back of her hand, his eyes glaring at the seat in front of him as he remained focused. He was more nervous than she was. He glanced across the aisle at where three people sat in the middle and two at the other end and he wondered if any of them knew who he was.

He had managed to blend in so far. It was like his sins had been forgotten. He knew he hadn't been in the right mind when he did what he did. He knew what he had done. Looking at Isabelle reminded him. He didn't think that she had fully forgiven him for what he had done, but, she was beginning to see that he wasn't well. He hadn't been the man she loved. But, now, as they sat on the plane, she knew. She knew Jonathan Crane had beaten the Scarecrow.

Once they were airborne and the seatbelt sign was removed, Jonathan lifted the armrest in between them, pulling her closer to him as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and she draped one over his waist.

"We've done it," she assured him. "This is a new start, isn't it, Jonathan?"

"Yes," he agreed with her. "Isabelle...you don't know how thankful I am...how lucky I feel..."

"Sh," she pleaded with him. "What happened...we both know that you weren't well, Jonathan. I just wished you'd opened up to me."

"I know," he agreed with her, whispering softly and burying his nose into her hair as he did so. "I wished that I had."

"You know that it will still take time, don't you?" she checked with him. "I love you, but, I still need time to take in what you did. I just hope that I made the right decision in coming with you."

"Don't you think you did?"

"I think it was," she nodded forcefully. "I hope so, anyway."

"From now on...I'll never keep anything from you," he promised her quietly. "I'll never hide anything from you."

Isabelle inhaled sharply, her breathing pattern faltering slightly as she heard him make that promise and she ran her free hand down her hair as Jonathan watched her, his brow arching as she sat up, allowing his arm to loosely drape over her and she took a deep breath. No more secrets.

"If we're going to make this work then I need to tell you something," she informed him, her voice low and soft and he remained watching her, his glasses falling down his nose as he did so. "I wanted to tell you earlier, but, waiting until we're in the air seemed logical because then you can't run from me. Not that you will...well...I hope that you won't..."

"Isabelle," Jonathan said; his voice low and full of authority. "What is it?"

"Oh God...please don't hate me..." she pleaded with him. "I'm pregnant."

She closed her eyes for a second, listening intently, but, all she could hear was her own heartbeat as Jonathan leant back in his seat, his eyes looking to the ceiling of the plane as turbulence hit them and he felt his hands begin to shake. She was pregnant.

"Say something," she pleaded with him. "Jonathan...please..."

"I don't know what to say," he admitted and Isabelle held her tongue. That was a first.

"I know this isn't ideal," she assured him. "I know it is unplanned-"

"-That doesn't bother me," Jonathan shook his head, cutting her off from the rant which she was going to go off on and she closed her mouth firmly, staring at him as he looked back at her, his blue orbs wide and concerned. "I've passed my genes on, Isabelle."

She remained quiet again, wondering what he was talking about as she waited for him to clarify and he chuckled once, sounding hysterical as he pushed his hair behind his ears.

"I'm mentally ill, Isabelle," he informed her. "I'm on medication...what if it turns out like me...what if I've created..." he trailed off, shaking his head as Isabelle leant forward, clasping his hands into hers as she began her denial.

"No," she said to him. "No...we won't let it happen to our child...Jonathan...we'll be there...don't think like that..."

"How can I not?" he snapped quietly back to her. "I may have condemned this child before it is born."

"And you may not have," Isabelle responded. "We will be by it regardless, Jonathan. It will be fine, I promise."

"How can you promise me that?" he asked her. "If it knows that I did this...then it may hate me...I can't..."

"No," Isabelle said again. "Jonathan, it won't hate you. You're its father...it won't hate you...how can it?"

"I could," Jonathan responded as Isabelle kissed his cheek.

"You're thinking of the worst," she promised him. "Everything will be okay. We'll get through whatever happens. Look at you, Jonathan. Look how far you've come. We will never let anything bad happen to our baby, will we?"

"No," he agreed with her. "I just feel terrible."

"Don't," she urged him. "This is supposed to be good, Jonathan. We're supposed to be happy about this."

"I am," he assured her. "I'm just scared, too. Do you think I know how to be a dad?"

"Do you think I know how to be a mom?"

"So, we're both going into this blind?"

"We'll manage," Isabelle said; convincing herself as Jonathan brushed her hair from her face, bending down to rest his hand on her cheek. "We have each other."

Jonathan nodded in agreement before he finally kissed her again, content with thinking about the future which he had.

...

A/N: Realised I never made a chapter where Isabelle told Crane that he was going to be a dad so I had to throw it in as a final chapter!


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